


must've been some kind of kiss

by carrieevew



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Feelings Called Out, Grounder Bellamy Blake, Grounder Clarke Griffin, Hurt/Comfort, Octavia and Lincoln as Romeo and Juliet--only they LIVE, Sharing a Bed, Still Star-Crossed AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrieevew/pseuds/carrieevew
Summary: Clarke knew that when Lincoln of Trikru, her dear, dear friend, ran away with an Azgedan warrior Octavia, it would bring noting but trouble. She just didn't expect that said trouble would land directly at her feet and that she'd be not-so-politely and not really asked to marry the warrior's brother to keep the peace between their clans. And she most definitely didn't expect to not hate him as much as she'd planned to do.a canonverse Still Star-Crossed AU
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, minor Octavia Blake/Lincoln - Relationship
Comments: 68
Kudos: 298
Collections: t100fic4blm Donation Celebration





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this work is a part of the [the t100 fic for Black Lives Matter Donation Celebration event](https://t100fic-for-blm.tumblr.com/tagged/donation+celebration), where we, the writers, collaborated with our amazing content creators to commemorate reaching the milestone of collecting over $2,000 by the series finale--and the ever so talented [Monisha](https://blakecholls.tumblr.com) created **[this amazing gifset](https://blakecholls.tumblr.com/post/636704027723300864/mustve-been-some-kind-of-kiss-by-carrieeve)** to accompany this story.  
> for more information about the project, visit [our carrd](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/) or [our tumblr](https://t100fic-for-blm.tumblr.com/).
> 
> hope you enjoy this story and i do apologise in advance for all the grounder politics, there will be quite a bit of that but hopefully, i somehow managed to make it interesting. 
> 
> title from _(I Just) Died in Your Arms_ by Cutting Crew ([from the Still Star-Crossed promo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U3MbNd0jOZM))

“Hey, Lincoln, the hunting party’s gathering tomorrow, do you want to—“ Clarke said, coming into his cabin after a short knock. She stopped mid-step though, seeing her friend was packing a bag. She frowned. A few of Lincoln’s most-prized possessions were strewn around on the bed.

“Well, clearly you already have plans,” she huffed and came closer. Lincoln looked up from his pack and just watched her, as she walked over to the bed and sat down.

Clarke picked up his new sketch book, the same one she gave him for his birthday. She stared at the cover for a moment, waiting for an explanation but Lincoln just stood there, looking sheepish. Now, that was quite a sight—her strong, brave friend was suddenly at a loss, faced against a small woman with pursed lips.

Clarke handed the sketch book to him. “Running away from home as an adult is not as impressive as it was when we were kids, you know,” she pointed out. Finally, he smirked and moved.

Lincoln took the book, put it carefully inside his bag and sent Clarke an apologetic smile.

“I’m leaving, with Octavia,” he said. Clarke scrunched her eyebrows, confused.

“ _Octavia_? Who the hell is—“ She racked her brain for an answer. And then—“You mean that Azgeda gladiator we saw in Polis last winter?!”

Lincoln nodded with a hum. A small smile flitted over his mouth and Clarke didn’t miss the warm look in his eyes, either. She breathed a short chuckle.

“Damn you, _that’s_ where you’ve been sneaking off to all this time?!” she exclaimed, jumping off the bed. Lincoln, still not saying anything, turned around to look at her and again, just nodded his head.

Clarke shook her head and threw her hands up. “I’m literally your oldest friend, you can at least give me an explanations _now_ , since you’ve decided you weren’t going to tell me about it from the start.” She didn’t want it to sound like she was complaining but she couldn’t quite help it. Knowing that he’d been hiding something like that, it hurt.

They grew up together, for goodness sake. They were a family—and yet, when Lincoln met someone he was so serious about, he didn’t tell her.

Lincoln leaned his head to the side and deflated.

“I’m sorry,” he said and took a deep breath. “I wasn’t trying to hide it from you, we just never told anyone. And besides, she’d Azgeda, I wasn’t sure how to even begin to tell you that.” He sent her a crooked smile. Clarke rolled her eyes with a grimace but he had her. She blew a raspberry.

She couldn’t really blame him for that. Things have always been tense between Azgeda and Trikru, ever since either of them could remember – or their parents. And with her father dying in one of the Ice Nation’s traps during one of his trips, Clarke was especially tense, whenever they were mentioned. If Lincoln came to her, saying that he was courting an Azgeda warrior, she probably wouldn’t have been very supportive. And she couldn’t exactly be mad at him for knowing that.

“A gladiator, huh?”

Lincoln smiled widely, genuinely. “She’s, uhm, she’s amazing. Strong, brave and yet, there’s something so vulnerable about her,” he spoke in a gentle voice but the happiness, the love, was almost palpable. Clarke felt a pang of jealousy but smothered it quickly. Her own romantic misadventures were better left undisturbed.

Lincoln grinned. “I think you two would like each other,” he claimed. Clarke sent him a look and he snorted. “Maybe eventually.”

Clarke leaned back against the edge of the table behind her.

“What’s with all the secrecy, thought? You worry Jaha will ground you if he found out you’re getting in bed with Azgeda.”

Lincoln levelled her with an unimpressed glare and cocked one eyebrow.

“You know as well as I do, that my uncle doesn’t care what I do,” he said flatly. “He’s got his rightful and willing heir in Wells and even if that didn’t work out, he’d rather see you take command over me.”

True enough, Thelonious Jaha was never particularly impressed with his nephew’s attitude. Unlike Clarke, Lincoln excelled during his training and he was more than skilled as a warrior but he never craved power and he avoided politics however he could. And in Jaha’s eyes, that made his the worst possible candidate to take over the clan. Even more after Clarke came to live with them following her mother’s untimely death and she and Lincoln bonded over art and medicine, instead of deals and treaties.

Clarke crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him expectantly. “So, what’s going on? We’re not at war with Azgeda, it’s not like just being with her will make you a traitor. Even Jaha couldn’t argue that.”

“We’re not at war, _yet_ , if Jaha had his way,” he countered. “And it might not be treason, but no-one’s gonna congratulate me for bonding outside of the clan, especially with Azgeda. And it’s the same for Octavia. She’s already looked down upon because her mother had her outside of an official union and another child with a man from a different clan. It’s why she couldn’t join the queen’s guard and had to settle for fighting in the pits. If everyone knew she found a Trikru partner, they would shun her—and our children.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows at that casual mention but Lincoln didn’t falter, so she didn’t interrupt.

“We just want to be together, somewhere where all that bullshit doesn’t matter,” he confessed wistfully. Clarke’s shoulders dropped and she smiled, pushing herself from the table.

She walked over to Lincoln and pulled him into a hug without a word. Immediately, she felt his arms around her middle, crushing her in a tight embrace.

“Well, then. I do hope you’re both ridiculously happy,” she whispered into his ear. Lincoln’s body vibrated in a quiet laughter. They held each other for a moment until Clarke pulled away. They both had tears in their eyes.

Lincoln ducked down to press a soft kiss to her temple and Clarke had to stifle a sniffle. She hugged him again and breathed into his neck.

“May we meet again.”

***

Not even a week passed since Lincoln left TonDC before Jaha called in an emergency meeting for his most trusted advisors, the clan elders and for a reason she didn’t dare think of, Clarke herself.

Inside Jaha’s command room, Clarke stood in the back corner and listened in to what was said amongst the people. The rumour mill had been spinning at an unbelievable speed as everyone discussed their theories about the sudden disappearance of their chieftain’s nephew. 

They all came to order when Jaha entered, flanked by Wells on his right side and Anya on his left. He stood in front of the gathered crowd, welcoming them with a furrowed brow and lips pursed into a thin line.

When the room fell into complete silence, Jaha swept them all with his gaze and spoke in loud, commanding voice.

“The Commander is gathering to coalition in Polis. She called in all the ambassadors, as well as the chieftains from all the clans,” he announced. He raised his chin, giving everyone the time to let the news sink in.

Clarke swore under her breath. The ambassadors gathered often enough but for the commander to demand the presence of all the chieftains, that was big. And nothing good ever came from it.

Jaha looked around the room, looking for something. Clarke wrapped her arms around her middle and withdrew deeper into her corner, hoping to avoid drawing attention to herself, but it was no use. Jaha knew that if he’d called on her, she would come—so she must’ve been somewhere there.

“Clarke,” he called out and everyone started looking around for her, talking in hushed tones.

With a sigh, Clarke moved forward and started shouldering her way to the front of the room, looking at her feet, but she could feel Jaha’s gaze following her every step, until she appeared before him and looked up. His eyes were hard, jaw clenched, and Clarke felt a small pang of loss deep in her gut.

She’d been a member of Jaha’s household for years now, but things hadn’t been good between them for much longer. Jaha knew – because she never hid it – that Clarke blamed him for her father’s death, for sending Jake on that final trip he never came back from. From that moment forward, things went downhill for the Griffins – her mother hid it well but her partner’s death took a toll on her, and it only got worse when her second partner was killed as well. After that, Abby had been swallowed by grief and shortly after, she died, seemingly from a broken heart, leaving her teenaged daughter behind.

Jaha had graciously taken her in. Clarke, Wells and Lincoln had been as close as siblings after all. But she had no doubt that his affections came from a place of guilt rather than real concern. And as the years went by, their relationship deteriorated – and the more Clarke grew up and learnt of his politics, the worse it had gotten.

Clarke knew that when Lexa of Trikru became the Commander, Jaha expected their clan to take a leading role in the coalition, above all others. And sure enough, the Commander chose her council mainly from her old clansmen and women – only Jaha was not one of them and for all that other clans cried favouritism, chief among them Azgeda, Lexa did her best to at least keep up the pretences that all the coalition members were equal.

With his ambitions unfulfilled, Jaha started a slow campaign of placing his traders and ambassadors inside other clans – spies, really. Clarke had no doubt that it would all lead to violence at one point and recently, even Wells started doubting his father’s peaceful aspirations.

And now, as Clarke stood face to face with Thelonious Jaha, a chill ran down her spine because she recognised that calculating look in his eyes that he tried to hide behind sternness.

“Clarke, we believe you were the last one to see Lincoln before he disappeared.” Jaha paused, waiting for a reaction. She just nodded. “Do you know what happened?”

She swallowed thickly. They may have grown apart in the recent years but Jaha still knew her and she didn’t dare lie.

“All I know is that he left, alone and at his own volition. But I don’t know where he went,” she admitted, looking Jaha straight in the eye. He looked at her for several long seconds and then—a small nod. Clarke unclenched her fists, knowing he believed her. For now.

Jaha huffed.

“Accusations have been made, after my nephew left us,” he announced, placing his hands on the high table in front of him and leaning forward. “Queen Nia claims that he kidnapped one of her people, a young, helpless girl, and took her with him.”

Clarke frowned and let out a strangled yelp. It brought Jaha’s attention back to her but if anything, the clear shock on her face only helped sell her version that she didn’t know what was going on. Octavia Blake, helpless? The Ice Queen must’ve clearly kept her identity hidden from the coalition because no-one in their right mind would’ve believed that the famed gladiator could’ve been taken anywhere against her will.

But obviously, that wasn’t a secret that could stay hidden for long, so what was Nia playing at?

“Obviously, those are lies,” Jaha continued and a few people from the crowd shouted their agreement. “Queen Nia is clearly trying to hide the fact that one of her spies had taken one of our most beloved friends, _my nephew_ , and is most likely keeping him somewhere, doing who knows what to him, waiting for the opportune moment to strike, to use him!” His voice grew louder and louder until he was bellowing over the crowd, over all the new voices joining in, everyone calling for justice.

Clarke closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Of course.

Trikru had been waiting for years for a good excuse to attack and so had Azgeda. By disappearing without a trace or a word of goodbye, Lincoln and Octavia had inadvertently given them one.

“And so, we will answer the commander’s call. We will go to Polis and we will demand retribution!” Jaha called out, his voice swallowed by cheers from the crowd.

Clarke looked up and caught Wells gaze. And in his eyes, she saw a painful understanding.

They were on a brink of war.

***

Clarke wished she could’ve said that the trip to Polis had gone by in a blink of an eye but alas, she was aware of every waking minute of the two days it took them to get there. When Jaha demanded she came with them, Clarke knew there was no getting out of it but then, she put great efforts into making sure she was never alone with him. There was no doubt in her mind that Jaha only dragged her along so that she could bear witness to his version of events—and she did all she could to make sure he never had the chance to try and convince or threaten her to lie on his behalf.

She didn’t have anything left to lose that wasn’t just as dear to him as it was to her, so she was afraid to even think what he might try to do to her to get her on her side.

The fact that she was about to see Lexa again for the first time in over a year wasn’t helping either. After Lexa had won the conclave, Clarke and a few other Trikru members joined her in Polis, while she settled in her role and formed her council. And Clarke was fascinated.

She only knew _of_ Lexa before, so she couldn’t comment on the way others claimed she matured once she accepted the spirit of the Commander, but she couldn’t deny that Lexa’s vision for the coalition was captivating.

Clarke had barely spent a few weeks in Polis but being one of the only few people there who were even remotely close in age to Lexa, the two of them grew close. Perhaps closer than some of the court members wanted them to be. No one said it out loud, but when Clarke was sent away from Polis, she had very little doubt that the driving force behind that decision was Titus, the Flamekeeper.

It hurt, being discarded like that, the relationship blossoming between them cut short without an explanation. Almost five years had gone by since then and Clarke only ever came to Polis when she didn’t have another choice—and over time, her bruised heart healed but it all still stung, and the lack of closure gnawed on her.

As they got closer to Polis, Clarke couldn’t decide for what reason she dreaded this visit more and she hated that she’d have to appear in front of Lexa as a pawn now. Only once they got to Polis, she never had the chance to say a word.

The Commander listened quietly to Jaha and Nia screaming abuse at each other and for the ambassadors throwing accusations left and right for long enough that both sides had the time to wax their own theories, one version of events more outlandish than the other but at one point, she raised her hand and spoke.

“Enough,” Lexa demanded. Her voice had that stiff tone that Clarke had learnt meant the Commander was speaking now.

She hated that tone.

“I can see that both Trikru and Azgeda have a valid claim in this dispute,” she said, measuring both Jaha and Nia from her throne. “However, I will not allow for this quarrel to stand in a way of our unity.”

The crowd gathered erupted in disagreement but all it took was for Lexa to stand up and they all fell silent. She looked around the throne room, storm brewing in her eyes.

“I shall call upon the great Commanders and seek their advice. And then I will decide on a solution for this situation,” she said with finality and no room for argument. With one last look of fury, Lexa stormed off, Titus and Indra following in her footsteps.

And once again, Clarke was left with a pit on her stomach, just knowing that this will only get worse.

***

After Lexa had gone, everyone was instructed to retire to their assigned quarters and to remain there for the rest of the night—seemingly to make sure that everyone is well-rested for the audience with the Commander in the morning. However, seeing how the guards never took their eyes off of the clans representatives, it was clear as day that it was a request in name only.

Clarke entered her small bedroom and a wave of unexpected nostalgia hit her. It wasn’t all that different from the bedroom she lived in during her stay in Polis but then again, pretty much all the ‘guest’ rooms in the tower looked alike, if only to make sure that none of the clans could argue that someone else had been given better accommodations.

Clarke dropped heavily onto the narrow bed, her head landing on the thin pillow. She stared at the ceiling, wishing for sleep to come but it evaded her, as she couldn’t stop thinking about everything that happened that day. Jaha didn’t get the chance to fully spin his story and if the fury in Nia’s eyes was anything to go by, neither did she. Lexa never gave them the chance to and Clarke couldn’t shake the thought that maybe the Commander had already come up with a solution and it was all just for show. After all, she’d called in that meeting in response to the rumours and accusations and it wasn’t like either side told her the true story of what happened—nor did they know it.

But if that was the case, the c\Commander surely must’ve come up with something that had very little to do with what either Trikru or Azgeda wanted. And that was worrisome.

***

In the end, Clarke had slept very little during the night and when they all gathered in the throne room the next morning, the only things keeping her upright and awake were morbid curiosity and the sinking feeling that this thing was far from over.

At the very least, it seemed that the night of rest had actually mellowed down the attendees. While all the clans kept to themselves and all the chieftains measured everyone in the room, most of the people were talking amongst themselves and there was even muffled laughter heard here and there.

And then, the Commander strutted into the room and towards her throne. They all went dead quiet and bowed their heads until she took her place and welcomed everyone back.

She swept over the crowd with her steely gaze and head raised high.

“Thelonious Jaha of Trikru, Queen Nia of Azgeda,” Lexa called out and waited for the two of them to make their way to the centre of the room. Clarke almost smirked as they looked at each other with so much detest that she almost expected them to start jabbing the other with their elbows. But as they stopped in front of the Commander, they both stood stiffly, looking straight ahead. Lexa looked from one to the other, breathing slowly.

Clarke took a couple of steps closer, to see her better, because she could’ve sworn she saw a ghost of a smirk on the Commander’s face and that terrified the living daylight out of her.

“You both presented your side of this issue that has befallen us and I appreciate how you feel about it but I’m afraid that neither one of you was able—or _willing_ , to tell me anything even resembling the truth.” The Commander’s voice was even, almost bored, but her eyes were narrowed as she paced in front of her throne and neither Clarke, nor anyone else in that room had any doubt that she was on the brink of exploding.

“It seems as though you both came here, expecting that those tall tales you’ve told would actually work on me, on your _Commander_ , that you’d be able to convince me to take one of the sides in this matter. That I would _allow_ you to threaten the integrity of this coalition over this silly little squabble!” she bellowed in the end. A wave of murmurs swept over the crowd.

“If you believe that the disappearance of Octavia Blake and Lincoln of Trikru puts your two clans at odds, I shall give you a solution to unite those clans once and for all.” She walked over to the edge of the dais. “And who better to help you with that than the two people closest to those you blame for this conflict.”

Clarke stiffened and for a split second, it seemed like Lexa had somehow managed to spot her in the crowd and look her straight in the eye. And she look almost—wistful. Dread stirred deep in Clarke’s gut.

“Clarke Griffin, the ward of Trikru’s chieftain and Bellamy Blake, Octavia’s brother,” Lexa called them out, a forced smile on her face. Clarke wanted to look around and search for him, before she remembered she had no idea what he looked like. And in any case, she was frozen in her spot, sensing the eyes of everyone who knew her, boring holes in her head. Lexa smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“You two shall marry and bring together the two great clans through this lasting union.”

_Well, shit._


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke barely registered what happened next. Blood rushed to her ears and only snippets of orders and conversations reached her. She could feel Wells stiffen at her side, could hear him say something, but before he spoke up, she put a hand on his elbow and shook her head, sending him a look, her vision swimming.

There was no way that Lexa would allow to have her decisions questioned, especially by someone as insignificant in her eyes as _a son_ of one of the clans’ chieftains, and judging by the sharp edge in her voice, there was no telling how she might react if Wells tried protesting.

She squeezed his shoulder with a sad smile on her face and the next thing she knew, the throne room was empty, except for her, the commander, Jaha, Nia and the man she was supposed to marry—Bellamy Blake.

The first thing Clarke noticed about him were the freckles. Immediately, she thought that he was nothing like she would’ve expected from Octavia Blake’s brother, he didn’t look much like her – and then she remembered what Lincoln said about Octavia’s brother, how his father wasn’t Azgeda. But when she finally caught his gaze, she recognized the fire burning in his eyes, the way his jaw was clenched in anger. He looked down at her and huffed through his nose, his golden skin tinted with a furious blush.

Clarke blinked rapidly, digesting the news and in the corner of her eye, she saw Bellamy’s fingers brush the leather knife holster strapped to his thigh. No doubt, he was hoping he could’ve kept his weapons on him—and for the first time since Lexa made her announcement, Clarke felt fear.

A stranger from Azgeda wasn’t her ideal choice for a husband but one that hated her was terrifying.

Clarke clenched her fists, her arms hanging by her sides, and faced Lexa. She was fuming silently, both from frustration and anxiety. But just as she didn’t want Wells to speak up, she knew better than argue with the commander in front of witnesses.

“Clarke, Bellamy,” Lexa addressed them both and now that the large audience was gone, so was her smile. “The ceremony will take place tomorrow evening, as the culmination of this summit and afterwards, the two of you will stay here, in Polis, where you can be the livng proof of the unity of your two clans,” she explained and the tone of her voice left no room for negotiations.

Lexa cocked an eyebrow, measuring the four of them, as if waiting for an argument but neither Nia, nor Jaha said a word. They both bowed their heads and thanked her. Clarke looked sideways at them, eyes filling with tears out of sheer powerlessness. If Jaha wasn’t going to protest Lexa’s decision, what chance did she have?

She took in a shuddering breath and looked away, wishing the tears away. She was still looking at the floor when Lexa cleared her throat and dismissed them.

“Very well, I shall see you all at the ceremony,” she said and stormed out of the throne room.

Clarke counted to ten, breathing deeply, before she fled the room herself, following Lexa. She heard Jaha call her name impatiently but hopefully, he’d just assume she went back to her room to wallow.

She caught up with Lexa at the door to the commander’s private chambers, away from prying eyes.

“How could you do this?!” she cried out, no longer able to contain her emotions. A single tear escaped from her eye and Clarke wiped it off quickly, embarrassed.

Lexa turned around and looked at her with a sad expression. Clarke froze in her spot and when Lexa realised that, she came closer, so close that Clarke could smell the familiar scent of the commander’s perfumed oils. It brought back unbidden, intimate memories but Clarke shook her head to clear her mind.

“Clarke,” Lexa said quietly, a hint of warning in her voice. Clarke just laughed.

“You’re marrying me off, to someone I’ve never even met?” Her voice broke, as if saying those words out loud for the first time finally made it real. “Don’t you care what happens to me now? Did you ever?!”

Lexa straightened, her shoulders squared. Clarke deflated, seeing her face drained of emotion. She knew she was no longer speaking to the girl she once knew. This was the commander. Clarke closed her eyes and huffed.

“Love is weakness, Clarke,” the commander said, stiffly. “This is what needs to be done to protect the coalition. _Nothing_ is more important than that.”

Clarke snorted, she couldn’t help herself.

“And you think _this_ is the way to do that?!” Clarke waved her arm, slapping her thigh in frustration. “Forcing sworn enemies into this sham of a marriage, to be paraded around Polis like a couple of your prized horses?” she argued but it was no use. The only reaction Lexa had shown was a twitch of her eye but Clarke knew that was more out of irritation than doubt.

She let out a humourless laughter and ran her hand through her hair.

“Well, then. I guess I’m getting married,” Clarke spat out. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t ask you to walk me down the aisle.”

She turned around on her heel and walked away quickly, before Lexa could say anything else. She wasn’t in a mood to hear anything more about how insignificant she was personally in the commander’s plans. She only faltered at the sound of the door to Lexa’s bedroom closing with a soft click, accentuating the end of that debate for good.

***

“Where the hell have you been?” Jaha hissed at her when Clarke entered the room he and Wells were sharing. She forced herself not to roll her eyes.

“I was rejoicing the news of my upcoming nuptials,” she deadpanned, walking around Jaha. She joined Wells on his bed and rested her head in his shoulder. Wells brought his hand up and started rubbing small circled onto her back.

“Oh, don’t sulk,” Jaha complained, watching her with his face contorted into an unpleasant grimace. “This is a great opportunity for us. And you finally have the chance to do something for your people.”

Clarke stiffened and sat up, Wells’ hand falling away from her back. She opened her mouth to speak but the closed it with a grunt instead. She really didn’t feel like listening to his tirade about the great legacy her parents had left behind and how little, in Jaha’s eyes, she was doing to live up to that potential.

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Please, do explain,” she encouraged, voice dripping with faux interest. “How will my marrying a random man from Azgeda bring glory to Trikru?”

Jaha ignored her sarcasm. “He is their records’ keeper, Clarke,” he said, as if it were obvious and explained everything. But noticing the clear lack of understanding on her face, he added “he’s got access to Nia’s palace—all the maps, plans, everything there is to know about their armies and defences.”

Clarke frowned, still not seeing the point—and then it hit her.

“You want me to spy on them.”

Finally, Jaha smiled, satisfied that she’d caught up with him. “Soon enough, the commander will realise that keeping you two here is pointless and will allow Blake to take you back to Azgeda. If you play nice long enough, maybe you’ll somehow manage to find something useful.”

Clarke got up from the bed and came up to Jaha.

“I’m not gonna help you start a war,” she warned, stomping her foot in frustration. Jaha sent her a pitiful look, like she was a child.

“I don’t want a war, Clarke,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “We don’t have enough men or weapons to win one, anyway. Which is why we need _you_ to find us a way to defeat them without shedding Trikru blood.”

Clarke let out a small whine, taken aback. Behind her, she heard Wells stand up as well, his boots scuffing the floor. He stood by her side.

“Dad,” Wells pleaded. Jaha looked at them with his eyebrows raised and arms crossed over his chest, clearly letting them know he wasn’t impressed.

“This doesn’t concern you, son,” he said with finality and turned his attention solely to Clarke. “And you will help, you haven’t got another choice.”

Clarke clenched her jaw, staring at him with, nostrils flaring. She hated this whole situation—the marriage, the complete disregard for her wishes, Jaha’s plan to use it to further his own agenda.

But most of all, she hated that he was right. Whether Clarke and Bellamy remained in Polis or not, it wouldn’t make any difference. This marriage won’t save the coalition and as soon as Lexa figures it out, Clarke will probably be forced to follow her new husband right into the lion’s den—and who could tell what would await her there. If not from Bellamy’s hand, then at Nia’s orders.

And it’s not like she could run away before the wedding—the commander would hunt her down and punish her for her disobedience, and breaking the marriage contract would surely give Nia a reason to seek revenge, so the war would start either way.

Clarke breathed through her nose and walked out of Jaha’s room without a word. She went back to hers and dropped heavily onto her bed. It was barely noon but she felt dead-tired and weighted down by her own helplessness—and soon enough, she fell into a restless sleep, thinking about what should she do next.

***

The wedding was awkward.

Under different circumstances, Clarke probably would’ve said that the ceremony was beautiful but seeing how she was the one standing before the coalition, having a staring contest with her _very_ soon-to-be husband, while Titus droned on and on about unity and the strength that only this alliance could bring, ‘ _awkward’_ was the only description she could come up with.

It had to be said, Lexa really went all out, trying to make a point and prove that this marriage was an important step towards peace, instead of just a ploy to make Jaha and Nia do what she wanted.

For the first time in Clarke’s lifetime, someone outside of the Flamekeepers order was allowed to enter the roof of the commander’s tower. Lexa graciously allowed for the wedding ceremony to take place up there and all the clans’ representatives have been invited to attend.

Not only that, but the roof had been decorated with dozens of candles and more extraordinary flowers than Clarke’d ever seen collected in one place. Both she and Bellamy had been pampered and beautified since that morning and there was a feast awaiting them at the foot of the tower, where all the Polis citizens could join them and congratulate them on their marriage.

Clarke had no doubt that it was a once-in-a-lifetime occasion, that nothing quite like that would probably happen ever again, but she was struggling to appreciate any of it.

She was wearing a beautifully preserved, vividly red gown with deep cleavage that made her look like a princess from one of the stories her father would tell her when she was a child. Alas, it was too small for her and on a such short notice, they was no time to make adjustments. Instead, she’d been forced into that contraption with the help of two novices, who laced her up so tightly that she was barely able to take a breath without feeling the material smother her.

At the very least, it seemed that Bellamy wasn’t faring much better. Instead of the thick fur coat and leather trousers she saw him in the day before, he was wearing a set of a dark blue jacket and pants that were only just long enough to not make him look ridiculous but it didn’t fit him very well either. Frankly, for the better part of the ceremony, Clarke wondered if the way he was standing, with his back ramrod straight and shoulders pulled back, was because he was stressed and tense, or that the jacket was just a little too tight.

When the time for their vows came, Titus instructed them to hold our their right hands palm-up, cut them with a thin, silver stiletto knife and told them to join hands as he bound them together with a long piece of cloth.

Clarke had to stop herself from hissing when Bellamy grabbed her, the rough skin on the inside of his palm rubbing against the fresh wound but when she looked up, she noticed the same expression on his hand. Still, his grip was strong and sure, and Clarke found herself oddly comforted by it. It felt more like a handshake, an invitation.

He didn’t have to hold her like that. By then, their hands were tied together so tightly that he could’ve let go and completely and he still wouldn’t have been able to take his hand away. But he held onto her and she reciprocated. Titus’s words came into one ear and went out the other but the way Bellamy was looking at her, that mattered.

There was still hostility in his eyes. Clarke had no doubt that he dreaded this union just as much as she did. There was anger in the way his jaw was clenched and his voice was hoarse when he repeated his vows after Titus. But he looked Clarke straight in the eye and in that moment, she felt herself relax a little because it no longer felt like all that was directed at her.

For the first time since they met the day before, Clarke wasn’t afraid of _him_.

She did her best to make sure that her voice didn’t waver as she vowed to honour him, to help him preserve and protect the traditions of their two clans, to work with him for the betterment of their alliance and to stay faithful to him and the coalition.

Her heart was beating so fast and loud that she could barely even hear herself. The fire of Polis beacon roared above them, casting a shadow over Bellamy’s face but as she spoke, those vows didn’t feel as empty or terrifying as she expected them to.

She was forced into the middle of this conflict against her will and paired with a man, of whom she hardly knew anything more than the fact that didn’t like this situation any more than she did. But if this was her lot in life now, she would do whatever she could to make sure that the war they were trying to prevent didn’t happen. And when she looked into Bellamy’s eyes when Titus pronounced them to be married, the was a split second when she was calm and certain that he wanted the same.

***

Clarke could still hear the music and cheering coming from the outside as she and Bellamy were being led to the official guest bedroom where they were supposed to stay for as long as they were in Polis.

Two members of the commander’s guard escorted them up and wished them a good night with the kind of smirks that made Clarke’s skin crawl and yet, when the door closed behind them with a soft sound, she almost wished she could’ve come up with an excuse for them to stay.

For the first time, she was alone with her new husband and she wasn’t sure what to do about that.

When Clarke turned around and looked at the large bed in the middle of the room, she found Bellamy already there. He’d taken the jacket off and thrown it onto one of the chairs and then landed heavily on the bed, making the old wood groan. He outstretched his arms and practically covered the whole mattress. Clarke walked over but before she could speak, he twisted his head to look at her with raised eyebrows, like he waited for her to demand he moved.

She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

With a sigh, Clarke took a step backwards. “Fine, I’ll take the other one,” she said, pointing to the weathered chaise-lounge in the corner of the room. Still, there was a satisfied look in Bellamy’s eyes and she realised that was exactly what he expected from her. It rubbed her the wrong way, how he was able to guess what she’d do.

Bellamy sat up, his hair sticking out in all directions, now that whatever pomade had been used to keep it in place had rubbed off. He looked at her, straight into her eyes, and Clarke clenched her teeth, trying to ignore the way that the intensity of his gaze made her insides burn.

She wanted to blame the raspberry wine she drank to toast her happy union one too many times, but that was no use. From the very moment they’d met, even when they looked at each other as if they were covered in boils and sores, she couldn’t overlook how attractive he was. Common attraction was nothing new to her, so it was easy enough to push it to the back of her mind for the time-being, while she was too busy freaking out over the fact that she was getting married, but now, with Bellamy sitting on their wedding bed, wearing a thin, threadbare white shirt that stretched over his muscled shoulders, showing off their curve perfectly, she could think of little else.

And that was not what she had planned. This was nothing more than a last-ditch effort to keep their clans from going to war, at least for long enough to come up with a better plan. That tingling feeling she had in the tips of her fingers, itching to run them through his wayward curls, yank his head back and expose his throat, that was not supposed to happen.

But then again, he was also not supposed to look at her like he had every intention of devouring her whole. Damn, that wine.

Clarke shifted her weight from one foot to the other and looked away, breaking the eye contact first. Clearly, Bellamy expected that as well, because he got up from the bed with a triumphant smirk on his lips and walked up to her. He took one of the loose tendrils of her hair escaping from her intricate up-do and twirled it around his finger. Clarke could feel her breath catch in her throat, her cheeks flushing a dark scarlet.

“My darling wife,” he finally spoke, his other fingers brushing the skin on her jaw lightly. “If you don’t join me in our bed, however will we make all those babies that will truly unite our great families and save the world?” He was almost able to keep a straight face till the end but his voice betrayed him, dripping with sarcasm over the last few words.

Clarke huffed and slapped his hand away. His finger pulled on the hair that was still wrapped around it but she ignored the sting as she felt irritation fill her body, replacing every shred of attraction she might have— _definitely have_ —felt.

“You’re a pig,” she said and Bellamy snorted, looking at her with mock pity.

“Oh, come on, _wife_. Have a little humour,” he answered, laughing. Clarke grit her teeth and put her hands on her hips, positioning herself for an argument.

“You’re not actually gonna call me that, are you?”

“What should I call you then? Princess?”

Clarke glared at him. “Seriously?”

“Well, if the dress fits.” He waved his hand at her clothes and Clarke only just remembered that she was still wearing that ridiculous gown. Good. Maybe that tightness that she was feeling in her gut was just the dress and not the—everything else.

“Besides, isn’t that just about the perfect title for you?” he continued and walked over to the table by the door, where a large bowl filled with fruit and a bottle of wine stood. He grabbed one of the apples and bit into it, the crunching sound reaching Clarke. “Aren’t you just a perfect little princess?” he mocked her while chewing. Momentarily distracted by his horrendous manners, Clarke missed what he said. But when it finally hit, she was seething.

“You don’t know anything about me,” she spat out. But Bellamy just sent her another one of those annoying, satisfied smirks.

“I know all that I need to know, Princess. Your mother was the most revered healer in your clan. You grew up in the house of your chieftain and your father was his most trusted advisor. Your mother’s second partner was a member of Heda’s council,” he listed off. “In fact, you are the only one in your family who hadn’t done anything remarkable or even interesting.”

He hummed. “And I can bet that you don’t know anything about me.”

Clarke opened her mouth but no words came out.

He was wrong, though. After the wedding was announced, she had asked around, just as he clearly did. She knew that he raised his sister after their mother died. She knew that Octavia was the daughter of one of the most prominent members of his clan, who only claimed her as his child after all his sons had died and she proved herself to be a worthy heir. That Bellamy was a skilled fighter in his own right but chose to become a records keeper and an envoy instead of a warrior—a job that brought him to Polis often and gave him the opportunity to earn quite a reputation among the young women in the capital.

But she didn’t tell him any of that. Unlike him, she chose to keep it all close to the vest and allowed him to underestimate her instead. And judging by the way he looked at her, she had finally succeeded.

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him, thinking. It seemed that he had something against her, personally. As if his frustrations came from more than just being treated like a pawn—only she couldn’t think of a good reason why. It’s not like he could’ve blamed her for not stopping Lincoln from running off with his sister—it’s not like he’d done any better in that department.

But if that wasn’t it, then what? He called her a princess with such a disdain, as if he resented her finding a good home with the Jaha’s while he struggled to support himself and his sister, as if she had any more influence over her circumstances than he did. He learnt some bits and pieces about her life and felt like he knew everything about her.

And that’s where they differed. Because the more Clarke had learnt about him, the less she believed she knew him.

Bellamy finished his apple and went back to the bed. “Well, if you’re not going to keep me entertained after all, I think I’m gonna call it a night,” he announced and started to unfasten the laces tying his trousers together without preamble. Clarke’s jaw dropped and before she had the chance to see more than she wanted to at the moment, she turned around and ran away to the en suite bathroom. A loud snort followed her but she pointedly ignored him, already too focused on how to remove that devilish dress without any help.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Clarke got up, dressed herself and left the bedroom before anyone could come in and see that she and Bellamy had slept separately. For all her disdain towards spending the night with him after his rude comments, she had no interest in creating rumours so quickly. Those would spread fast enough if people start noticing that she wasn’t pregnant any time soon.

Clarke went back to her old bedroom to collect her things. She'd spent the previous night in nothing more than the flimsy lingerie she'd been lent for the occasion. By some divine intervention, by the time she emerged from the bathroom, Bellamy had already gone to sleep and was still out in the morning, when she left, so she was spared from whatever biting comment he would've made upon seeing her wearing but a few scraps. Still, she grabbed the jacket he discarded in the evening, not willing to risk running into someone half naked.

Not that she expected crowds this early in the morning after a big party but still, when Clarke made it back to her old room, she exhaled in relief that she hadn't seen anyone. Regardless of how she looked, she was in no mood to talk to anyone about the wedding or the wedding night.

_Ugh_. She shuddered at the thought.

Now finally dressed in her old, comfortable clothes, Clarke felt a little more like herself and as she gathered her meagre belongings, she felt tempted to check next door and see Wells. Only he was still sharing the room with his father and Clarke wanted to see Jaha even less than she wanted Bellamy to see her in her nightly get-up. She decided to try and catch her friend later and made her way back to the room she and Bellamy were occupying. In the harsh light of the day, she couldn't quite bring herself to call it theirs.

When she walked through the door, the first thing she noticed was that Bellamy was now awake, sitting on the bed shirtless and smiling at her in delight. She froze in shock, seeing it.

"There you are, my darling!" he explained, getting up. Luckily, he was wearing his trousers again. Still, there was a small huff coming from somewhere behind her and for a split second, Clarke actually thought it may have been her. But then, there was shuffling and before she could look around her, Bellamy was by her side, guiding her towards a small table next to the chaise Clarke had slept on. And right next to it, there was a young girl, most likely another novice, carrying a tray full of food.

"Come on, sweetest, there's breakfast waiting," he explained uselessly. Clarke sent him a flat glare.

" _Sweetest_?" she mouthed at him. Bellamy just shrugged. He sat down at the table and popped a single grape into his mouth, grinning as he chewed. Clarke rolled her eyes but joined him at the table, hoping no one heard the grumbling in her stomach.

The novice left with a muttered goodbye and they were alone again. Only this time, Clarke was glad. Today, they had business to discuss.

Clarke nibbled on her slice of buttered bread while Bellamy practically inhaled everything on his plate and started tossing grapes into his mouth as a dessert. Clarke shifted her eyes up with a disapproving shake of her head and put her barely-touched bread back onto the plate.

When she looked back at Bellamy, he was wearing a sour smirk on his face and Clarke began to wonder if that, next to anger, was just his natural expression.

She leaned back in her chair and looked outside the window. This high up, all she could see were acres and acres of forest. She remembered coming to Polis with her father when she was a little girl, when even from the lower floors where their rooms were located, they could only see the trees, she remembered her father telling her that if she looked close enough, maybe she could see the Trikru border.

Clarke could feel herself smile lightly at the memory. She was soon distracted though, when Bellamy finished off his meal and put down his cup, almost slamming it onto the table. It startled her and she rolled her eyes.

“You know, if you keep doing that, one day you’re gonna roll them so far they won’t come back and then, what will you do?” Bellamy said, pointing his finger at her eyes and waving it around.

“It’s a good thing I’ll have you to lead me around for the rest of our lives,” Clarke answered with a saccharine smile. Bellamy froze for a second, which sent a wave of satisfaction through her.

Bellamy’s mouth twitched, like he was trying not to smile and Clarke couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for them to find some connection after all.

“Do you mind?” he asked suddenly, his hand already reaching for the bread she’d given up on. Clarke nodded her head without a word and just watched as he chewed on the bread.

“I gotta say, I’ve never actually seen anyone give up their food as a protest before,” Bellamy said, leaning back in his chair, mirroring her position. Immediately, it made her straighten up.

“What?” she asked, a little confused.

Bellamy huffed. “Azgeda’s lands are beautiful but not exactly fertile,” he mused and Clarke frowned, not really seeing the point. “When winter comes, supplies are limited, so you eat when you can and when it’s given to you,” he explained further. Raising one eyebrow, he nodded his head at her now empty plate. Clarke looked down automatically, like she expected to see something there.

“But I guess it’s different for you, princess. All those wild forest full of game, all those trained hunters making sure that nothing is ever amiss in your perfect little castle.”

Clarke’s head snapped up. “I don’t live in—“ she choked out with a huff, braking off when she saw how smug he was, pleased with himself for goading her into an argument.

So much for a connection.

Clarke snapped her mouth shut and pursed her lips. Bellamy crossed his arms over his chest and just looked at her, awaiting a reaction.

Well, she wasn’t gonna give him the satisfaction.

“Look, I’m sure you don’t want to hear it, but I spoke to Jaha before and he’s right,” Clarke said, pretending like she hadn’t heard him before. Bellamy grimaced at her words but luckily, he just listened. “Soon enough, the commander will realise that all of this—“ she gestured between them “hasn’t done anything and she won’t need us anymore, so she’ll probably send us away.”

Clarke looked at him, waiting for some sort of feedback but he was just looking at her. Well, good enough. At least he didn’t contradict her.

Clarke blew a puff of air. “Do you want to go home?” she asked, hoping to engage him somehow.

There was a frown and a pause on his side. “Azgeda?” he finally answered, a little surprised, like he needed a moment to remember where home was. “You mean the place where I’ve no family left and my queen agreed to sell me off to the commander without a word of protest?” He snorted. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Clarke leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. “I don’t care for Jaha very much, either. But I was thinking last night and I figured—“ she hesitated, not sure if the crazy idea that popped into her head last night, when she laid in the darkness, listening to Bellamy’s breathing, made any sense. But since she already started…

She gulped. “Maybe we can actually do something about this situation and bring Lincoln and Octavia back.”

Bellamy sat up. Clarke almost smiled, glad to see she finally had his attention.

“Do you really think that that’s gonna change anything? This isn’t a fairy tale,” Bellamy mocked but she could see a glimpse of interest and hope in his eyes. For all his contempt, he couldn’t hide how much he wanted to see his sister again.

“Of course not,” Clarke responded with a snort. “But both Jaha and Nia keep insisting that whatever they are doing, is in retaliation for this ‘kidnapping’. If Lincoln and Octavia come back, of their own free will and unharmed, _they_ lose their argument and hopefully, the support of other clans.”

Bellamy didn’t say anything but Clarke could see that he was processing what she said. He clenched his jaw and flared his nostrils when he exhaled loudly and she knew that despite himself, he agreed with her.

“You know as well as I do, the war between Trikru and Azgeda will not bring victory to either side, it’ll just cause death and destruction. And it’s only the fact that both our clans are much bigger and better equipped that’s stopping others from attacking. But once we bleed out, they’ll storm in to pick up the pieces,” Clarke explained.

Bellamy grimaced. “You’re right,” he finally conceded. “If Octavia and Lincoln are back, the commander will declare that the whole matter is over and if Trikru and Azgeda still go to war, she’d condemn them without another thought,” he said, his voice tinted with a little bit of excitement.

_Interesting_ , Clarke thought. He acted like he couldn’t care less about what happened to the big picture but clearly, there was a bit of a strategist in him after all.

Bellamy moved to lean over the table, closer to Clarke and this time, she didn’t flinch away.

“If the commander doesn’t support them, the other clans will join her armies and march on us both to pacify us and claim the spoils with her blessing,” he finished. Clarke nodded in agreement.

“And both Jaha and Nia know that, I’m sure,” she said. “they’ll only make a move if they can hide behind their desire to avenge this hurt and hope the commander won’t intervene.”

Bellamy looked at her for a moment and Clarke realised with a bit of a start that they were both smiling. She blinked, surprised.

After another beat, Bellamy shifted.

“That leaves only one problem, princess. We don’t know where they are,” he said. It made Clarke grit her teeth.

“Okay, first of all,” she said counting off on her fingers, “stop calling me that. Second of all, I think I know where they went.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows shot up and the guarded expression he was hiding behind fell away from his face completely.

“ _What_?!” he hissed, anger flooding in at the thought that she’d kept it hidden from him.

Clarke swallowed heavily. “I’m not sure, Lincoln never told me that,” she explained quickly, hoping to placate him because at that moment, it seemed he had grown to be twice his own size. “It’s just—before he left, he mentioned that he wanted to go somewhere where no-one would care about the clan they were born into and now that I think about it, there’s a place that comes to mind.”

She talked around the subject, not sure if she was ready to reveal their destination just yet. Five minutes ago, they were antagonising each other and now she was about to share a secret that could threaten many innocent lives if it were to be misused.

“Well then, _Clarke_ , where do you think they are?” Bellamy insisted with irritation.

Clarke pursed her lips. Ultimately, she didn’t have a choice. If she wanted her plan to work, she needed to trust him.

“At Luna’s, I think.”

Bellamy blew a raspberry and laughed. “The blood traitor who fled her Conclave like a coward? You can’t be serious.”

“Luna didn’t run because she was afraid of fighting, she did it because she didn’t want to kill,” Clarke insisted but Bellamy still looked at her with doubt. “She travelled as far away from Polis as she could, built her own clan and she’d been very accepting towards those who wished to stay away from the violence and the politics. Where they could all live in peace.”

“That all sounds perfectly lovely,” Bellamy said with condescension.

Clarke knew how it looked, that a clan of misfits who tried to live like the coalition and its internal conflicts didn’t exist seemed a little fantastical. She’d always been a little sceptical herself but Lincoln had sworn that it worked and this wasn’t the time to argue about their worldviews—if they could find Octavia and Lincoln among Floukru, then that’s all that mattered anyway.

“What difference does it make how they live, as long as we find our people there?” Clarke asked with an edge of frustration in her voice.

Bellamy shrugged and sent her another dismissive look. “Your tale about this magical place aside, I find it hard to believe that my sister would settle down somewhere like that. She’s not one for sitting around the camp fire and braiding hair.”

“Great, I get that,” Clarke huffed. “But do _you_ have a better idea where they are?”

Bellamy narrowed her eyes at her and pursed his lips but finally, he just shook his head with a trace of defeat in his gaze. Clearly, it wasn’t easy to agree with her on that and Clarke didn’t quite understand that. If he got pissed at not knowing where his sister was, how could he be ever angrier to learn where she might be. Didn’t he want to find her healthy and safe?

Still, Clarke didn’t ask him any of that. For all she loved Lincoln and Wells like they were her own blood, she didn’t actually know how it was to have a sibling and cautiously chose not to touch that one just yet. Besides, from what she remembered, the road to Luna’s was long, maybe she’d have the chance to learn more then,

Instead, she spread her arms in front of her. “Do we have a deal then?” she asked.

She waited through several heartbeats for him to respond and when he finally did, it was with a simple nod but Clarke still smiled with satisfaction.

***

Bellamy didn’t seem to get along with his horse very well.

They’ve snuck into the stables a couple of hours after the breakfast, after they’ve said goodbye to the coalition members alongside the commander. Clarke cleared out her belongings but Bellamy only shrugged when she asked him if he wanted to go back to his old room, claiming there was nothing there that he needed.

Once they got to their horses, though, Clarke could see what he meant. There were small bags strapped to his saddle, not large enough to draw any attention but when Bellamy went through them, Clarke could see glimpses of bits and bobs, with more sentimental value than anything else—there was a hint of relief when he saw that everything was where it was supposed to be.

At first, she thought about asking why he kept it there, if he worried about anything being taken but then, her hand instinctively went to an old watch her father had given her, the same one he’d received from his father and so on, since before Praimfaya. She’d only taken it off when she was being prepared for the wedding and after that, she tied it with a bow under her dress, no willing to lose track of it. And she only trusted Jaha with the rest of her things because Wells was in the other room and would’ve taken care of them if needed.

She noticed a tiny smile on Bellamy’s face, seeing his hands caressing what looked like a small necklace and it tugged at her heart, to realise that he didn’t have anyone like that. Not here and probably not back home, either.

Finally, they were ready to go and they managed to leave Polis alongside some of the guests from the last night’s celebrations. Clarke looked back at Bellamy when they were walking through the main gate and they both smiles sourly at each other, seeing how they were fleeing after what was supposedly to the happiest day of their lives and how none of the people invited to toast the union with them seemed to recognise them after all.

They lead the horses on foot almost for a mile outside of Polis, trying not to raise any suspicions but after they passed yet another of the city’s guard posts, they mounted the horses and rode away, roughly in the direction where Clarke believed they could find Luna.

And Bellamy didn’t seem very happy about it. Granted, Clarke found him to be pretty grumpy in general but it looked like the ride was especially unpleasant for him. Clarke couldn’t really relate to that. For all that she was nervous and looked behind her every time she heard a noise, when they hit a longer stretch of the road, she’d let Phoenix loose and let him gallop as fast as he could while she closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the wind in her hair, listening to the hoof beat, finding the familiar serenity in it.

It was different for Bellamy, she could tell. She didn’t look at him while they were galloping but once they slowed down to trot through the woods, Clarke would sneak a glance at him and always noticed his rigid posture and a grimace on his face. At first, she wondered how on earth he even managed to stay on the horse but the animal was of a respectable age and seemed to be used to even less skilled and willing riders.

When she heard Bellamy swear after he hit his head on a low-hanging branch, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“I think we can stop soon, take a short break,” she said, trying to sound as casual as possible but Bellamy didn’t buy it. He just sent her a flat glare and rode ahead of her with a short “ _I’m fine._ ”

Still, when they reached the river, he couldn’t argue that it was the perfect moment for a break. They lead the horses to the water and when Clarke was busy looking for the old map she’d always carried with her, Bellamy finally spoke.

“It was Octavia’s horse,” he said, not even looking at her. Clarke’s head snapped up from her bags and she stared at the side of Bellamy’s head, shocked into stillness by his sudden confession.

“She’d ridden him since she was old enough to reach the stirrups, all the way to when she won Helios in one of her fights.”

Clarke nodded her head, a little uselessly since he couldn’t see her. She remembered that fight. It was the last one that Lincoln managed to convince her to go to, the one that earned Octavia the title of _Blodreina_. It was brutal and bloody but Octavia came out of it nearly unscathed. For a long while after, Clarke wondered why was Lincoln so happy and relieved about it. Made sense now.

Clarke finally shook out of her stupor, dug out the map and joined Bellamy at the river bank. He still didn’t look at her but he turned ever so slightly that he was almost facing her. After a moment, he spoke again.

“When she left with Lincoln, she took Helios with her and this one,” he pointed to his horse who put his ears up like he knew they were talking about him, “he stayed behind. I think it was seeing him still in his stable, when I truly realised that my sister was gone for good. That she left her home behind and didn’t look back.”

There was so much grief in his voice, Clarke felt compelled to reach out and offer some comfort but thought better of it. She didn’t expect for it to be well received and she didn’t want to break what little peace Bellamy’s story had built between them.

For a few minutes, all they could hear were the horses drinking and nibbling at the grass. And then Bellamy cleared his throat.

“Yeah, anyway,” he said, he voice forcibly light. “I don’t really like horses in general.” He started to walk away and without thinking, Clarke’s hand shot out and she grabbed his forearm. Bellamy looked at her with a surprised expression while she scrambled for an explanation.

“I—uhm,” she stuttered, looking at the ground, letting go of him like she’d been burned. Finally, she remembered the map she was holding. “We should look at the map, see what kind of roads we’d be taking, plan our breaks and where to camp for the night,” she said quickly, waving the map in front of his face. Bellamy grunted in agreement, accepting her reasoning and she relaxed.

Truth be told, the road ahead was far on the list of her concerns. What she really wanted to do was ask about his sister, about whether or not he even had the chance to say goodbye to her. Strangely enough, she even thought that maybe, he wouldn’t brush her off but she chose not to risk it. They still had miles to go and who knew, maybe at the end of the road, she’d find the courage to do so.

***

They rode well into the night, though with how quickly the sun went down this time of the year, night was a relative term. Still, when they finally stopped to get some sleep, Clarke could tell it was late and she was about ready to fall off her horse.

When they tied up the horses and grabbed their bags, a chill went down Clarke’s spine and it had everything to do with the fact that she could hear and feel the leaves crunching under her feet, frost having taken a hold of them already. She swore, eyes dropping to her thin sleeping bag, not looking forward to sleeping in the ground. She stared with envy when Bellamy pitched a small tent and threw his sleeping bag and a couple of furs inside but tried to hide her expression when he looked at her. She needn’t have worried though, because his gaze immediately zeroed in on her bag and he looked alarmed like she hadn’t seen him before.

“For fuck’s sake, Clarke, what the hell is this?!” he exclaimed, pointing at her sleeping bag, which Clarke immediately held closer to her chest protectively, all of a sudden determined to prove to him that she would be fine.

“What do you think it is?” she shot back, unrolling her bedding under one of the trees. She shivered at the very thought of crawling inside of it but she was ready to persevere. She wasn’t about to admit to Bellamy that on the way to Polis, she had slept with the Jahas in their tent and she didn’t even think she wouldn’t have that right now. She knew it was stupid and childish but the last thing she wanted was to lose face and to have him call her a princess again.

She was putting the bag filled with her spare clothes to use as her pillow, when Bellamy yanked it out of her hand and tossed it inside his tent. Clarke opened her mouth to yell at him, mostly out of frustration and general embarrassment but he wasn’t having any of it.

“Come on, or you’re gonna catch death out here,” he ordered with a huff, grabbing her sleeping bag and throwing it after her bag with way more force than it was necessary. He stalked back to the tent but turned around when he realised she didn’t followed. He huffed again, louder this time and more exasperated.

He held the flap up and waved his other hand in a mock invitation. “Oh, come on, princess,” Bellamy insisted impatiently. “I promise to give you a wide berth but will just get the hell inside?”

The proud, stubborn part of her wanted to argue but when the wind picked up and she felt it hit her in the face, she decided to swallow those feelings and walked over to the tent, ducking to get inside under Bellamy’s outstretched arm, trying not to think of the triumphant smirk she caught on his face.

Inside, the tent was small and dark, and it was incredibly cramped once Bellamy joined her, but since it was clearly made from a good, sturdy pre-Praimfaya material, it was also warm and dry, and at that moment, that mattered more than anything else.

As promised, Bellamy settled as far away as it was possible and turned on his side, showing her his back. Carefully, Clarke spread her sleeping back next to him, trying not to disturb him. She crawled inside and covered herself with the spare fur that Bellamy had left for her—and then, she once again found herself listening to her husband’s breathing as she tried to relax and go to sleep.

“Thank you,” she muttered quietly, on the edge of consciousness. The only answer she got was a small grunt that she wasn’t even sure was deliberate effort on Bellamy’s side but still, it made her smile and that was the last thing she remembered before sleep had finally claimed her.

In the morning, she woke up to a warm, hard mass under her face. She nuzzled lazily into the soft fur and only when the mass started to move in response did she fully snap out of it.

As it turned out, while they were sleeping, Bellamy had shifted onto his back and Clarke tucked herself into his arm, seeking out his body hit. Before Bellamy woke up, she rolled away from him and sat up, rubbing at her eyes with her fists

She tried to get out of the tent as quietly as possible but she failed miserably when she unlaced the flaps and opened them up to peek outside.

“Shit!” she swore loudly, seeing the thin cover of snow. She ignored Bellamy’s irritated mutterings as she darted out of the tent to check on the horses. Luckily, they were both okay, having found some shelter under the tree they were tied to.

Still, she couldn’t help the slight pang of guilt she got when she came up to Phoenix to feed him, and the horse looked at her as if he wanted to ask if she couldn’t have found a better weather for their trip. Before Bellamy emerged from his tent, she managed to feed his horse as well and she smiled to herself, when she heard Bellamy express his gratitude. It was the least she could do after he saved her from freezing her ass off—and refrained from saying ‘I told you so’, despite this perfect opportunity.

***

They travelled for well over a week and with each day, the weather was worse and worse. Clarke couldn’t deny that the beginning of winter was probably the worst moment for a trip to the sea but they ploughed on regardless. The thicker and more insistent the snow was getting, the slower they travelled but Clarke couldn’t quite bring herself to complain about that because whenever the road was too difficult for them to ride fast, they talked.

It started small, with Clarke telling him a story of how she, Lincoln and Wells used to sneak out of their homes during winter to go over to a frozen pond nearby so they could skate and how one night, her father caught them when he was coming home from one of his trips and made them clean the stables for the whole month in exchange for not telling anyone about it and their promise to never do that again.

It was such a small, random memory that it came out tumbling out of Clarke’s mouth before she ever realised she was talking out loud. But it opened the floodgates for the both of them and they spent most of the trip sharing childhood memories and laughing at each other’s adventures.

It took her a while to notice that, but after yet another story of how Octavia broke something during training or how quickly she picked up this or that skill, Clarke finally realised that while Bellamy was present for most of those events, they were all about his sister and he hardly ever talked about himself. But the more she heard about his life, the more she realised that Octavia had always been the most important person in his life. Still, through the bits and pieces Bellamy had offered, Clarke was able to piece together at least a part of his own story. Raised by a seamstress who could barely afford to feed the three of them, he had always been the one responsible for taking care of his sister while their mother took whatever job she could find. It wasn’t until Octavia’s father had finally claimed her that her status in Azgeda changed but that didn’t do Bellamy much good. He was still the son of a travelling merchant he’d never even met, and after his mother died and his sister moved away closer to Polis, he was lost.

Being Azgeda’s records keeper had never been his dream but it was a good job and whenever he had the chance to dive deep inside the library in the palace’s cellars, it was almost an interesting one. When they offered him the role of an envoy, a helping hand to the ambassador, he jumped on the opportunity to leave Azgeda and visit the capital, if only to be away from the court.

Clarke ate up every new piece of information he’d given her, finding herself more and more fascinated by her new husband. Whatever she thought she knew about him before, barely even scratched the surface and before she even noticed, she was eager to know everything about him.

And it scared her. Not just that she was growing attached to a man she’d only known for a several days, but because she had no idea if her feelings were in anyway reciprocated.

Clarke shared a few painful and personal stories with him, peppered them here and there between some lighter memories but still, the most honest and emotional reaction she’d gotten from him was a genuine apology for how he spoke to her after their wedding. Not that she really expected anything more. Just because she found herself developing feelings for him that she didn’t dare name, didn’t mean that he felt in any way the same.

Still, it wasn’t exactly helping her resolve to keep her head on straight when she woke up every morning wrapped in his strong arms. They never spoke about it and for the sake of her own sanity, Clarke told herself that it was nothing more than a convenience and an effort to conserve body heat but it hardly mattered when she laid down next to Bellamy and in the darkness of the tent, allowed herself to be more vulnerable than she ever could in the light of day.

The things she told him right before they fell asleep, she never really spoke of them. Wells and Lincoln knew how hard she took it when her father died and later, when her mother passed away from grief, but only because they were there to pick up the pieces.

She had never felt strong enough to tell anyone about it but Bellamy’s quiet but sure presence at her side was reassuring in ways that she couldn’t yet understand. She felt words flowing out of her – about her love for the old art, her studies to become a healer and how hard it was for her to stay the course after her parents were gone and the last thing she wanted to think about was honing her skills. He held her through the night after she’d told him about the Azgeda trap that cost her father his life and the morning after, for the first time, she didn’t pull away immediately after she woke up. Instead, she stayed in his arms for just a little while longer, just watching him sleep and failing not to imagine the rest of her life looking like that.

She should’ve known that this peace couldn’t last.


	4. Chapter 4

According to Clarke’s map and her most sincere hope that they were in fact going in the right direction, after ten days of travel, they were almost there. She hadn’t been in those parts in years, not since their parents had taken her and Wells to the seaside when they were kids but they could already feel the way the wind would blow differently, smell like the sea and the further they went, the stronger that sensation would become.

On the day before they believed they would reach the coast, Clarke was restless. Bellamy noticed her looking over their shoulder like she expected someone to appear behind them but when he asked her about it, Clarke just shrugged and said that it was nothing.

Truth be told, she didn’t know what was it about that day that made her so nervous but she also couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. Still, the forest was quiet around them. This time of the year, most of the animals had gone to sleep already and she and Bellamy were the only ones around.

Until dusk settled around them and when they stopped for a quick break, someone walked from between the trees, bundled in furs and holding a log bow. In that outfit, it took her a while to realise that it was a woman, tall with long brown hair and Azgeda war paint on her face. Strangely, she bore no markings, as it was customary for their warriors, her bow was lowered and all her arrows still in the quiver.

Clarke froze when she first saw the woman, somehow still shocked even though it confirmed her suspicion about being followed. Only when the woman took a couple nearly soundless steps forward did Clarke finally make a sound and it was her yelped that alerted Bellamy to the presence of the intruder.

He pulled out a long knife from his thigh holster and jumped in front of her. Clarke cowered behind him, embarrassed and pissed off at herself for being so stupid and letting her guard down. But then again, it’s not like she could’ve been much use in a fight even if she hadn’t been surprised.

The tense moment between the three of them seemed to stretch forever until suddenly, Bellamy relaxed dropped his knife-wielding hand down and let out a long sigh.

“What the hell, Echo?” he asked, a little exasperated and somehow, the fact that he recognised the woman stupefied Clarke more than her sudden appearance. _Did he know that she was following them?_

The woman, _Echo_ , jogged closer, pulling the hood off her head. She looked at Bellamy and only him, like Clarke wasn’t even there. Which, okay. She was still hiding behind him.

Hoping that the blush she felt on her face a moment ago had gone away, Clarke stepped around Bellamy and stood at his side, hoping that she’d be able to display so much more confidence than she felt. It was all for naught, though. Echo barely spared her a glance before turning her attention back to Bellamy.

“Where are you going?” she demanded to know, her brow furrowed. “Queen Nia ordered you to stay and do what she said,” Echo admonished with a nod, like she was trying to convey some deeper message to him. A small spark went through Clarke when Bellamy just huffed in response and crossed his arms over his chest. She didn’t dare to believe that it mean he was taking her side in whatever stand-off this could turn into but at least he didn’t desert her just yet.

“Bellamy?” Echo asked, softer now. Clarke looked at her husband and noticed him waver. His mouth twitched and he narrowed his eyes. It made Clarke desperately curious about the relationship he had with Echo because it looked like he was conflicted and she had no idea why.

Clarke stepped away from him and turned to the side so she could look at him. Bellamy caught the movement in the corner of his eyes and glanced at her. Clarke shook her head lightly when she saw the look in his eyes. He trusted Echo. Whoever she was and whatever reason she had for spying on them, he still trusted her. Clarke felt her stomach churn because she knew what was coming next.

“We’re going after Octavia and Lincoln. We want to bring them back, hopefully we can stop the war between our clans before it even starts,” he explained, looking back at Echo. Clarke’s shoulders dropped and she swallowed heavily. She couldn’t really compete with that, the history Bellamy must’ve shared with Echo. It still stung, though.

“ _What_?!” Echo hissed, back to ignoring Clarke completely. “You can’t do that!”

Bellamy took an unconscious step back, moving away from Echo with and expression Clarke couldn’t decipher. But somehow, she knew it was nothing good.

“I can’t go after my own sister?” he hissed.

Echo took a step towards him, shortening the distance between them once again. She put her empty hand on his forearm and gave him a soft squeeze, a pleading look in her eyes. “Bellamy, forget about it, about her,” she pleaded, ignoring his question. “Come back home with me.”

Clarke clenched her eyes for a moment, hoping to dispel the sting of tears and not to think about who exactly Echo wanted Bellamy to forget. When she opened them again, Bellamy’s jaw was clenched hard. He dropped his arms suddenly, yanking himself out of Echo’s grasp.

He huffed, angry. Something had changed in him in that moment, Clarke could see it in his face.

“No, I’m not going anywhere,” he said decidedly. “But you are.”

Echo opened her mouth to protest but Bellamy didn’t let her. “Go back to Nia and tell her to fuck off,” he stormed off back to his horse and started digging through one of his bags. He came back with a small coin bearing the Azgeda symbol on one side and tossed it to Echo. She barely caught it, clearly shocked by his behaviour, the betrayal twisting her face. Bellamy stood at Clarke’s side, so close that their shoulders brushed. He sent her the smallest of smiles, like he was gathering his strength. Then, he looked at Echo. “Tell her that I’m done being her pawn, that I’ve no interest in helping her carry on a slaughter.”

He let out an exhilarated breath when he was done, like he’d been waiting for a long time to say it. Clarke looked down and smiled lightly.

Echo’s fingers wrapped around the coin and she shot the two of them a murderous glare. “You’re making a mistake, Bellamy,” she warned.

“Maybe, but at least it’s mine to make.”

Silence settled after that and they all just stood there until finally, Echo turned on her heel and stalked back into the forest without a word, disappearing just as suddenly and she’d appeared.

“Are you okay?” Clarke asked, seeing Bellamy deflate. He dropped his head down, looking at his feet. Clarke put her hand on his shoulder and could feel him relax a bit before he spoke up.

“Yeah,” he said looking up, but he didn’t sound like it. There was a defeat in his voice she’d never heard before. Clarke wanted to say something but what can you say to someone who’d just renounced his clan and his queen?

Instead, she just kept her hand on his shoulder, rubbing small circles into the muscle while Bellamy stared ahead with unseeing eyes. Finally, he shook his head and sighed.

“Come on, we’ve got to get going. We don’t have much time before Echo tells Nia about out plan,” he grumbled with an angry expression. Clarke suspected that he blamed himself for trusting Echo but before she could ask him about it, he had already walked away and was busy untying the horses. Without a word, they mounted their horses and rode away into the darkness.

They went slowly, wary of the protruding roots, hiding under the snow. There were no roads left behind from the old world and they had to be careful not to lose their way.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” Clarke said cautiously, looking sideways to where he rode next to her. Bellamy glanced at her with a grimace on his face.

“I’m sorry for trusting a spy with our mission,” he shot back. Clarke’s eyes bulged out at the information but truth be told, it explained a lot. “It was stupidly naïve of me to think that she’d care about peace, when all Nia’s ever wanted was to sow was and destruction.”

Clarke gulped, not sure how to respond to that.

“Still, it couldn’t have been easy to tell her off like that, to give up on your people.”

Bellamy snorted. “I don’t have people, Clarke,” he said bitterly. “With my sister gone, there was nothing left or me in Azgeda, not that they ever really treated me like one of their own, not with Louwoda Kliron Kru as a father.”

Clarke tugged at her reins and manoeuvred her horse so close to Bellamy’s that she could reach out and put her hand over his. Bellamy’s head shot up and he looked at her with surprise but he didn’t take his hand away. Clarke smiled.

“Well, you’re my people now,” she decided confidently and found that she meant it more than she ever thought she would. “And I’m yours.” Those were simple words and they were mostly meant to lift his spirits up but somehow, they felt more monumental than their wedding vows.

Bellamy never looked away from her, his eyes searching her face for something and even in the darkness, it seemed that he’d found it because his mouth twitched into a small smile. “Yes, you are,” he confirmed. Clarke was suddenly very glad for the lack of light because she was sure there was an embarrassing blush on her face.

She leaned sideways to knock her elbow against his and it was the only reason why the arrow didn’t lodge itself in her back. Instead, it flew by her side and nicked Phoenix’s ear on its way into the nearest tree.

The horse whined in panic and shot off at a neck-breaking speed. It was only by some miracle that Clarke was able to hold on to the reins and didn’t fall off, but instead managed to calm Phoenix down enough for him to stop. From between the trees, she could see Bellamy chasing after her, calling her name but before she could respond, another arrow flew past her and it must’ve touched the horse as well because suddenly, Phoenix reared up and she was no longer able to keep her balance. She slid off his back and onto the ground, landing hard. Despite having her breath knocked out of her, Clarke managed to roll away from under his hooves and rose onto her hands and knees, shaking her head to clear her vision.

By then, Bellamy had already appeared on her side. He caught Phoenix’s reins before the horse could run away and when the animal settled down, he jumped off his own horse, tied the two of them to the nearest branch and ran to her, grabbing at her shoulders.

Bellamy’s hands were roaming at her sides, checking for injuries.

“Are you okay?” he huffed, out of breath.

Clarke nodded, fairly certain that she’d only gotten some nasty bruises. “Yeah,” she croaked weakly and Bellamy helped her stand up to her feet.

Clarke looked at her horse but as she tried to make her way to him, another series of arrows flew at them. Without hesitation, Bellamy jumped at her, dragging her behind the nearest tree. He pulled them both to the ground and covered her with his body. Clarke whined in pain but curled herself into a ball as more arrows tried to reach them.

One of the arrows hit the tree they were hiding behind and when Bellamy looked up and sew it, he growled, his whole chest shaking.

He stood up, pulled the arrow from the tree and only then did Clarke see the recognition in his eyes. She got up with a grunt and stood at his side.

“What the fuck are you doing, Echo?” he yelled into the forest and tossed the arrow angrily onto the ground. And sure enough, a heartbeat later, the spy emerged on her horse, her bow raised and another arrow trained on Clarke’s chest.

Seeing that, Bellamy stepped in front of Clarke again and this time, she didn’t feel embarrassed. All she could feel was the dull pain all over her body and the blood pumping in her ears.

“Have you lost your damn mind?!” Bellamy asked, his arms circling behind him to make sure that Clarke was completely shielded.

Over Bellamy’s shoulder, Clarke could see Echo’s stern expression. “I’m following my orders. She has to die,” Echo announced, emotionlessly. “I know that it was her plan to go after your sister it must’ve been. She’s standing it the way of what the Queen’s wants.”

Bellamy scoffed. “The Queen wants a war, Echo,” he said but Echo’s face remained stoic and Clarke could tell there was not getting through to her. Still, Bellamy tried.

“Please, think about this. Nothing good can come from Nia’s getting her wish, can’t you see that?”

Echo didn’t answer, she just pulled on the string of her bow, ready to let the arrow loose. Clarke hugged herself with her arms and suddenly, she felt a small bulge in one of the inner pockets of her coat. She started patting at herself, forgetting how to get to it in the panic. She took her eye off of Echo, trusting Bellamy to keep her safe.

“How the hell is killing Clarke gonna help Azgeda with anything, anyway?” Bellamy argued.

Echo nudged her horse with her legs and it carried her closer, Clarke could hear the snow crunching under the hooves. Finally, she found the right pocket and wrapped her fingers on the small metal ball. She pulled it out and turned it around in her hand, looking for the pin and the lever.

Echo stopped again a few meters in front of them, moving her bow so the arrow still pointed at Bellamy. She narrowed her eyes when he didn’t budge. “If she dies, you can come back home with me and we can tell she tried to attack you, that she wanted to kill you and I saved you. The Queen will finally have proof that Trikru wants to attack us, even if she couldn’t get it from your useless sister.”

Bellamy’s arms stiffened around Clarke and she knew she was running out of time. Finally, her shaking fingers found the pin.

“Bellamy, move,” Echo insisted.

“No. If you want to kill Clarke, you’re gonna have to go through me.”

Echo huffed. “I don’t want to hurt you, Bellamy, but I will if I have to. And then I’ll get her either way. It’ll work just as well for us.”

Clarke looked up again and saw the way that Bellamy’s shoulders dropped, the way he deflated upon hearing how disposable he was to his queen. Clarke hated it and it only fuelled her determination. Without a second thought, she depressed the lever, pulled out the pin and threw the ball over Bellamy’s shoulder, vaguely in Echo’s direction.

“Look out!” she hissed into Bellamy’s ear and covered her ears, glad that he did the same without further prompting.

The ball landed well behind Echo but the blast was strong enough that she’d been thrown off her horse and into a tree. Her horse spooked and ran into the night. Bellamy was already turned towards her, a question on his lips when the explosion happened and instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her, shielding her from the shrapnel.

Clarke’s ears were ringing and her vision was swimming. It felt like she was moving in slow motion when she removed her hands from her ears but it all sped up when she saw that Echo started moving. Clarke grabbed Bellamy’s hand and it shook him out of the shock. They both ran to their horses, the two of them scared and pulling at the rope still keeping them tied to the tree. Somehow, they seemed to understand that Bellamy and Clarke wanted to take them away and didn’t protest when they mounted the horses and pushed them to run ahead, momentarily not caring about their ultimate destination. All that mattered was getting the hell away.

“What was that?!” Bellamy yelled.

“A grenade,” Clarke answered with a grin. Her body was pumping adrenaline like crazy and she felt this insane desire to laugh. Bellamy looked at her with raised eyebrows. “My friend Raven makes them, from the bits of old weapons she finds. Never thought I’d actually have to use it. Or that it would work,” she explained, laughing again. She sounded a little hysterical but by then Bellamy her joined her and the sounds of their laughter echoing through the woods were exhilarating. 

***

After miles and miles of running the horses nearly to the ground, they only slowed down when they broke the tree line and rode across empty fields. When Clarke was finally able to catch a breath, ignoring the pain in her body, she turned around to talk to Bellamy. It was nearly dawn, the horses were exhausted and no matter how scared she was, they needed to find a place to rest for the night.

Only when she called his name, Bellamy didn’t answer. In the darkness, she could barely see him, a few strides behind her, so she pulled on Phoenix’s reins to let Bellamy catch up—and her blood went cold when he finally did.

Bellamy was slumped over his horse’s neck, his face glistening with sweat and contorted with barely contained pain.

“Bellamy, are you okay?” she asked and her own voice terrified her. Her throat was dry and her voice was hoarse from the exertion of the ride but the worry gave it a shrill tone. Bellamy jerked upon hearing her and looked at her sideways with a weak smile.

Clarke was certain he was about to reassure her that everything was okay but before he could, his horse stepped into a dip, jostling him, and Bellamy cried out in pain. He grabbed his side, letting go of the reins and the horse’s neck, and nearly slid off. Clarke gasped when she saw him falling sideways and caught him at the last moment, one arm around his waist, nearly all his weight in her shoulder, ignoring her own discomfort. She nudged Phoenix to walk side by side with Bellamy’s horse, grabbed both reins in the other hand and stopped them all.

She let go of the reins, trusting the horses to stay put and shoved Bellamy into an almost upright position. He groaned again, his eyes closes and Clarke was terrifyingly certain that he was on the brink of consciousness.

“Bellamy!” she called out frantically, taking her arm from around him and putting her hands on his face. And then she noticed the stain on her glove—deep red and still wet. He fingers tightened on his face, smudging some of the blood of his cheek. Clarke wheezed and called his name again, louder and even more panicked.

Finally, he opened his eyes and smiled serenely, mumbling something. Clarke frowned, not understanding. But before she could asked, he fell into her arms again. She gripped him tightly around the middle and swallowed thickly.

Her heart was hammering. Bellamy was hurt, of that she was sure. But with him barely awake, there was no way of asking him about it and the middle of an empty field was no place to treat him anyway. Besides, she couldn’t even move without letting go of Bellamy and if she did, he would just fall to the ground and she wouldn’t be able to pick him up again, much less put him back on the horse.

“Bellamy?” she asked again, right into his ear. He hummed in response and stirred.

“Hi, Princess,” he mumbled, breathing heavily into her neck. Clarke let out a ragged breath, momentarily relieved that he was still awake.

“You should go,” Bellamy said, trying to pull himself up and away from her. “Just leave me here.”

Clarke tightened her grip in response. “Don’t even piss me off like that,” she growled.

She rested her forehead over his shoulder, thinking. Phoenix neighed lightly, as if to hurry her up. Clarke moved her hand down Bellamy’s back, about to calm the horse down, when a memory popped into her head. She froze with her hand over Bellamy’s side, her fingers hooked on a rip in his jacket but it barely even registered. Instead, she was focusing on an image of herself and Wells, maybe 8 years old, maybe 10, running around an old house on the edge of the forest—an old hunting cabin, abandoned and forgotten by everyone, it was preserved in an incredible condition. When they were children, it was a playground like she’d never seen before. Now, it could be their saving grace.

Clarke took a couple of shallow breaths, trying to concentrate and remember where that was. Bellamy groaned again and whimpered, and that was all the time she had. She made a decision, grabbed both reins again and pushed the horses to move, still holding Bellamy up with one shoulder.

They stuck to the treeline again, moving slowly and with each step, Clarke’s eyes filled up with tears.

“Please, help me save him,” she whispered. Whether it was to the horses, or the universe, she couldn’t tell.

All she knew was that when she finally saw the dark shadow that took shape of a building, she started crying and didn’t stop until they reached the entrance.

***

Getting Bellamy off the horse and inside the building was a feat she was sure she’d never be able to repeat but finally, he was inside and on the bed, the horses were tied to the back porch and Clarke had her supplies bag strewn open on the bedside table.

Her hands were trembling as she removed Bellamy’s jacket and shirt, and saw the long gash below his ribs. She clenched her teeth and thanked her lucky stars he’d passed out completely by the time she doused his side with rubbing alcohol and started to stich him up. When she’d finished, she cleaned herself up and washed the blood she’d smudged over his face before.

He was clammy to the touch but at least he wasn’t running hot and Clarke wasn’t sure if she should be glad he didn’t have a fever, or worried about the blood loss. Deciding she couldn’t really do much about either, she went back to the horses, grabbed the furs strapped to Bellamy’s saddle and returned to his side.

It felt strange, laying down by his side when he wasn’t able to wish her goodnight. Still, in barely a week and a half, she’d grown so used to falling asleep with him, that just having him there, breathing steadily, was enough for her to put her mind at ease enough that she was able to close her eyes and drift off.

***

Clarke bolted awake the second she felt Bellamy stir at her side.

She jumped off the bed and ran around to his side, crouching so she could appear in his line of sight. Bellamy’s eyes were open, if a little unfocused.

“What happened?” he croaked, trying lift himself up. Clarke put her hands on his shoulder to keep him in place and he was clearly too weak to argue because he laid back down without a word.

“I should be asking _you_ that,” Clarke huffed. She rose up and move to check on his bandages to distract herself from the sudden onslaught of emotions that came with having him awake and talking. Finally, when she reassured herself that the wound was healing as it was supposed to, Clarke sat down on the edge of the bed and looked sideways at Bellamy. Instinctively, Bellamy started to move his legs, to make room for her but Clarke put her hand over his thigh to stop him when she saw him grimace in pain.

“I guess one of Echo’s arrows must’ve gotten to you, tore through your side,” she explained when Bellamy still looked at her expectantly. “Luckily, it didn’t hit anything major but the ride had aggravated it and you lost quite a bit of blood.”

She sighed. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Bellamy frowned, like he was trying to remember.

“I—I don’t think I felt any of it,” he breathed out, confused. “I mean, I was getting tired and my head started spinning but I thought I just needed rest and after what happened, I—“ he stopped suddenly and closed his eyes tightly.

When he opened them again, he look straight at Clarke. “I remember telling you to leave. Why didn’t you?”

Clarke swallowed, her fingers clenched and it startled her, to realise her hand was still on Bellamy’s thigh. She took it back and looked away.

“And play right into Nia’s hand? No, thank you,” she answered, forces lightness in her voice. But then, Bellamy took her hand. His hold wasn’t as strong as she was used to but his skin was rough, warm and familiar. Without thinking, she squeezes his fingers and looked at him.

She wanted to tell him exactly why she couldn’t leave him behind. How terrified she was when she realised he’d been hurt, not because she didn’t want to carry the burden of their mission on her shoulders alone and lose their chance at peace, but because she didn’t want to lose _him_.

But she couldn’t say it. She opened her mouth but nothing came out, because admitting all that scared her almost as much. Not that long ago, she dreaded spending one single moment alone with him. The very thought of being married to him, even if in name only, made her skin crawl and she wanted to wipe that stupid, arrogant smirk off of his face but then—everything changed. And it made her feel things she never thought she’d get to experienced again.

It made her feel safe. _He_ made her feel safe. And interesting. And smart. Unlike Jaha, Lexa, Titus and all the Trikru elders, Bellamy listened when she talked and discussed her ideas with her without dismissing her—not since they agreed to work together. Even despite their ridiculous circumstances, she felt like she’d found a partner.

It wasn’t the right moment to tell him any of that, though. He was hurt, she was emotional and they still had a long journey ahead of them. For all she knew, he didn’t even feel the same way and it was better if they made it without having her broken hart to worry about.

“I’m just glad that you’re okay,” Clarke said instead, looking at their joined hands. Bellamy tugged at her, prompting her to look up.

“I’m sorry about what happened, about Echo,” he apologised with a furrowed brow. “I always knew that she was willing to do anything for Nia, I guess I just didn’t think that would mean—“ he shook his head.

“ _Anything_?” Clarke added. Bellamy nodded with a sad expression on his face.

They stayed quiet for a while, still holding hands. Bellamy’s eyes started to close but instead of falling asleep like Clarke expected him to do, he shook his head and tried to sit up. Clarke complained and argued but soon gave up. If he were to believe how weak he still was, he had to see for himself.

With Clarke’s help, Bellamy was able to move up the bed and lean against the wooden headboard, his head resting on the ledge. He was taking slow, deep breaths while Clarke busied herself with rearranging the furs around him. And then, her curiosity got the better of her.

“Did you and Echo, uhm, were you—?” Clarke stuttered, not looking at him.

“Yeah,” Bellamy confirmed with a sigh. “It feels like it was ages ago but yes, there was _something_. But it couldn’t have lasted. In Echo’s eyes, Nia could do no wrong and her orders were sacred. Meanwhile, I’d always been more,” he huffed a chuckle, “critical.”

Clarke hummed, stealing a glance at him. Bellamy was looking through the side window, his forehead creased. “We were still friends, though. I didn’t think that—” Bellamy’s voice hitched and he didn’t finish.

"I'm sorry about that,” Clarke said after a few moments of silence. “I know how it feels to be let down by someone you care about."

Bellamy looked away from the window and back at her.

“You mean the commander?”

Clarke’s jaw dropped. “How—how do you know about that?”

“I saw the way you two looked at each other when she announced the marriage,” he explained and his lips twitched into a soft smirk. “You looked pissed, betrayed and a little heartbroken. And she seemed regretful. Like she didn't actually want to go through with it. And obviously, she didn't care about me, so—“

“Right,” Clarke said flatly. She inhaled deeply.

“Lexa and I—I guess we didn’t stand a chance, either. I think I knew that from the beginning but I still fell for her.”

Bellamy hummed but Clarke could see in his eyes that he didn’t quite understand it. To some extent, she couldn’t blame him.

“She wasn't always like that, like you know her,” Clarke explained. “At the beginning, she was still so—enthusiastic. Full of hopes and ideas. Even after she fully accepted the spirit of the commander, the change was gradual. She became more calculating, more ruthless. The coalition was her big dream of bringing all our clans together but I think at some point, she started to care more about the _idea_ of the coalition than the actual people she was supposed take care of.”

Clarke sighed. “I don’t even know any more if she still actually believes it could work but I think that by now, she'd given so much to building this alliance that she won't let anyone stand in her way in realising her vision—not even the people it is meant to protect.”

Bellamy nodded silently and once again, Clarke was taken by surprise at how easy it was to tell him all that. Not even Wells knew all that happened with Lexa—he just saw Clarke come back home one day and hugged her for a long time, simply asking if she was okay. Bellamy was the first person she ever told about her relationship with Lexa and finally getting it off her chest felt strangely exhilarating. It still wasn’t the time for all those revelations, though.

Hopefully, she’d have the chance to sort through all her feelings later.

***

Clarke couldn’t tell if it was from the pain, the restlessness or because she’d forbidden him from doing anything more strenuous than going outside to relieve himself, but Bellamy started talking.

“I’m sorry,” he said out of the blue a few hours later, looking genuinely apologetic. He cast his eyes downwards. “For the way I treated you before, how horribly prejudiced I was.”

“Bellamy—“ Clarke protested, brushing her fingers over his knee to get his attention. But Bellamy only glanced at her for a second before averting his gaze again.

“Please, I have to—you didn’t deserve all that shit.” Then, he looked at her with such earnestness that it heated up a blush all the way down to her chest.

Hoping to disarm the tension, Clarke shrugged with a soft grimace. “I deserved some of it. And it’s not like I was warm and welcoming either,” she reminded but Bellamy just shook his head.

“Maybe but I was angry and antagonistic, and I refused to accept that you were just as much a victim in this. Instead, I blamed you for everything from my sister leaving to all the pomp and circumstance of the wedding. And I was just—“ he sighed. “I thought you had everything and you deserved a little kick in the ass to understand how the world worked. I thought you were such a—”

“Princess?” Clarke supplied softly and Bellamy answered with a shy, crooked smile. Then, she put her hand on top of his. “You weren’t exactly wrong, I did have it better than most, I was lucky, in a way.”

Bellamy turned his hand palm up and squeezed Clarke’s fingers lightly. “Still, you’re not who I thought you’d be, who I _assumed_ you were. You’re amazing,” he breathed so quietly that Clarke would’ve missed If they weren’t surrounded by the dead silence of the forest.

She swallowed thickly and cleared her throat, the heavy mood dissipating around them.

“I need to check on your dressing,” she announced in a weak voice. Clarke could feel Bellamy’s eyes following her every move for the time being, she chose to ignore the warmth spreading all over her body as his words replayed in her head.

And then, it seemed as though that confession opened something up in Bellamy because he told her more that Clarke ever expected.

He spoke about the way his mother was treated when he was a child, how she ended up involved in an affair with a man who’d already had a family because he offered her work and she couldn’t afford to say no. How she kept his sister at home as much as possible so that no-one could look at her too long and discovered who her father was—until one day, when Aurora had died and Bellamy couldn’t keep the ruse up for any longer, not when Octavia started running away and getting into trouble.

Before, when he talking about growing up, he never spoke like that, never gave that many details. But it seemed that ever since the attack, when he realised he no longer had a home there, Bellamy lost all attachment to his clan and processed the grief of losing his homeland by finally telling someone how unkind life in Azgeda had been to his family.

Clarke listened as he told her in wavering voice that he was terrified for his sister. In the eyes of Ice Nation, she was a gladiator in every sense of the word—they saw her as their property and for all that Bellamy wanted Octavia back, he worried that she’d be seen as a traitor and probably wouldn’t be able to, or want to, stay. And though he never said it out loud, Clarke could sense how hurt he was by Octavia’s decision to leave without him and find a home somewhere else.

They stayed in the cabin for two days and in the end, they only left because Bellamy was getting more and more restless and Clarke was sick and tired of telling him to take it easy. They bickered about whether it was more important to hurry up and get going or for Bellamy not to pull his stitched until finally, Clarke gave up.

She threw her hands in the air, told him that she would just ditch his ass if he opened up his wound again and ignored his satisfied smirk when he realised he got his way.

Funny enough, this time she didn’t grind her teeth when she saw him grinning triumphantly. She just smiled back herself.

***

“How long, you think, before Echo gets back to Nia?” Clarke asked after a few hours back on the road. Finding their way back to the road they were meant to take took them a while but once they were back on the right track, Clarke had the time to wonder.

Bellamy hummed, thinking.

“Not long enough,” he decided, sending Clarke a worried glance. “Her horse ran away and she was probably hurt when she fell but it’s not all that far to the Azgeda border—and there, she’d find help without problem.”

Clarke grimaced. “So she’ll probably get there before we find Luna,” she deduced. It was grating on her nerves that the plan they were so proud of could still fail because they were careless enough to let a spy follow them for so long.

It seemed almost futile now to go after Lincoln and Octavia, to hope that it could help anything, when most likely, by the time they come back, it’ll already have been too late. Clarke fought against the resignation but it showed up on her face, she knew. She could see it in Bellamy’s eyes.

As if reading her mind, Bellamy grabbed her elbow gently and sent her half a smile. “Hey, there’s nothing we can do about it now. Even if we turned around, we’d never catch up to her. So we just keep going, right?”

Clarke smiled back. No more than a twitch of her lips but still.

“Yeah, we keep going.”


	5. Chapter 5

They rode through the night and the rest of the day, so that when they finally reached the fire pit on the beach that Lincoln had mentioned to Clarke, they were both exhausted and falling asleep on their feet. As they watched the signal branches burn, after Clarke had checked on Bellamy's dressing, they both sat down next to the fire and Clarke put her head on her husband's shoulder, trying to get some rest.

He put his arm around her shoulders, holding her against his side. Clarke could feel his chest rising and falling as he breathed, and it nearly lulled her to sleep, when a light appeared on the horizon—and a boat came to shore.

Clarke jumped to her feet when a couple of men jumped out of it and came to them, demanding to know what they wanted.

"My name is Clarke Griffin," she introduced herself, raising her hands to chest level. Bellamy rose slower and stood at her back. "I came to see Lincoln of Trikru, I’m a friend."

The two men looked between each other and one of the nodded, pulled two small vials from his pocket and handed them over without a word.

"Drink this and we'll take you to your people," the other man explained. Clarke could feel Bellamy stiffen and she wondered if it was because he was asked to drink some mystery concoction, or if he caught the man talking about their _people_.

She took one of the vials and before Bellamy could protest, Clarke drank the liquid. It tasted horrible but at least it worked quickly. Before she could think about how her legs were starting to shake, she was on her knees, laying down on the ground. She looked to her side, where Bellamy was in the same position, the empty vial in his hand.

She tried smiling at him but it seemed she no longer had control over her face. At least the last thing she saw before darkness swallowed her was Bellamy's slightly worried face, his eyes boring into hers.

***

Clarke blinked awake, sunlight blinding her as it streamed through the gaps in the wall.

They were made of metal and she could’ve sworn she heard them groan, like the building was about to collapse on the top pf her head. The head that was still spinning a little whenever she moved around.

Clarke tried rolling onto her front, so she could get up, and just as she realised that she’d been lying on some sort of a bed, a strong arm grabbed her around her waist, preventing her from tumbling down onto the floor.

The arm manoeuvred her into more of a sitting position and all of a sudden, Clarke came face to face with a smirking Bellamy and noticed that she was practically straddling him. She must’ve been lying in his lap before she woke up.

Bellamy used his other hand to remove the hood covering the back of her head and brush away a few strands of hair hanging over her face. Clarke froze, half-kneeling on top of her husband and only just on eye-level with him. She was hypnotised by the intensity of his gaze, the tenderness with which he searched her face, checking if she were alright. And when the pads of his fingers brushed against the shell of her ear, breath hitched in Clarke’s throat. For a moment, she couldn’t even blink, not willing to lose the sight of him, even for a split second.

It’s been nearly two weeks since they were married. A fortnight since they even met. And yet, Clarke had managed to learn the details of her husband’s face as if she’d known him for years—the long scar marring his upper lip, his strong jaw, now covered with a stubble he didn’t bother shaving since they left Polis, his deep, brown eyes and the freckles that had started to pale from the lack of sun but still visible, still making her fingers twitch, wishing that she could run them over his skin. The small smile that his lips curled around once her realised that she was alright.

The sudden realisation of how dear Bellamy’s countenance had become in that short period of time caused Clarke’s brain to short-circuit and finally, she blinked. One of her hands tightened over his elbow, which she’d been holding for balance, and she all but dropped into his lap.

Bellamy chuckled lightly but didn’t move himself, not until Clarke’s sudden movements brought her knee to his injured side and he flinched.

All thoughts of attraction and affection forgotten, Clarke clambered off of him and sat down on the bed next to him, her hands immediately reaching for him, moving the thick layers of clothing out of the way.

“I’m fine,” Bellamy muttered into her ear, their faces still only a breath away, and placed his hand of her forearm with a reassuring nod of his head.

Still, Clarke wanted to ask more, about how he was doing, how long had they been there and where exactly that was. Only she never did because seconds later, the door at the end of the room opened and in walked Lincoln, flanked by two Floukru members. Never forgetting Jaha’s teachings she saw that none of the men was armed—and neither were she and Bellamy.

The Floukru men seemed relaxed enough that she risked getting up from the bed, her knees still a little wobbly, and took a few steps towards Lincoln. When no-one tried to stopped her, she stumbled even further and soon, Lincoln had joined her in the middle of the room, tugging her in a tight embrace. Still a little surprised, Clarke needed a moment to process everything but when her brain had finally caught up to the familiar scent of her friend, she started laughing into his neck. Whether it was because she was simply happy to see him or relieved that they had found him after all, she wasn’t sure. But the joy of having him there, after all that’s happened, simply couldn’t stay inside of her.

When Lincoln let go of her, the two men were gone and Bellamy was standing a few meters away, watching the two of them warily.

Clarke cleared her throat and wiped the stray tear that rolled down her cheek. She smiled at Bellamy, who only barely reacted to her. Ignoring the pang of disappointment about seeing him closed off like that, Clarke took Lincoln by the elbow and led him closer to Bellamy.

“This is Lincoln, my friend. My family, really,” she introduced, still looking at Bellamy, whose eyes snapped to stare at Lincoln with a furrowed brow. In the corner of her eyes, she could see that one of Lincoln’s eyebrows twitched under Bellamy’s hard gaze and he suddenly grew more serious with a hint of recognition.

Still, she completed the introduction. Stepping to the side, so she could be closer to Bellamy, she placed her other hand on Bellamy’s shoulder. “This is Bellamy Blake, Octavia’s brother.” Lincoln nodded, as if in confirmation of his own suspicions. But Clarke wasn’t done yet. She drew a quick breath. “My husband,” she said.

Bellamy’s shoulders, tense through the whole introduction, relaxed slightly. His eyes darted to her face but before she could read his expression, he was looking at Lincoln again. 

“Bellamy,” Lincoln said, outstretching his arm in a greeting. “Your sister speaks very highly of you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Bellamy shot back stiffly. Still, he grabbed Lincoln’s elbow, accepting the greeting. Lincoln’s hand clasped around his elbow and the two men stood frozen like that for a while, measuring one another.

No longer worried about their first meeting, Clarke rolled her eyes, unimpressed with the display of testosterone.

“Okay, great,” she said cheerfully, clapping her hands together to distract Bellamy and Lincoln from their staring contest. “Now that we all know each other, how about we find Octavia. We need your help.”

At the sound of his sister’s name, it was like Bellamy had finally woken up.

“Where is my sister?” he demanded, completely ignoring what Clarke had said. She pursed her lips and shot him a glare. Bellamy didn’t even notice.

“She’s okay, at home,” Lincoln informed them, rubbing his hand over the back of his head. Clarke noticed that way Bellamy’s jaw twitched when Lincoln mentioned home and she wanted to talk to him about that but this wasn’t the time.

“We were only told that you came to see _me_ , she didn’t want to show herself unless she had to,” Lincoln explained further and Clarke thought back to Bellamy telling her how Octavia was now a traitor, it made sense she’d stayed behind. She could see on Bellamy’s face that he understood that as well, but impatience had won out in the end and soon, they left the room—which turned out to be a metal container and not a building, and Lincoln had led them to where he and Octavia were staying.

On the way, Clarke looked around and realised with a start that somehow, they were standing in the middle of the water. Racking her brain, she remembered Raven telling her once about old world power sources and how they used to drill in the ocean for fuel. It was impressive, how Luna managed to find one of those oil rigs and build a home there.

All around them, there were people who looked at them with suspicion but didn’t hide—it seemed that they trusted Lincoln enough to allow him to show their safe haven to strangers.

Finally, they reached an entrance to a block of containers and Lincoln let them in. It was dark inside and coming from the brightly lit courtyard, Clarke couldn’t see a single thing.

She narrowed her eyes, willing them to readjust, when a body came barrelling from the back of the unit. Clarke yelped and felt Bellamy’s hand reach for her but then, the person threw themselves at him, arms thrown around his neck. Bellamy stumbled back and let go of Clarke which immediately made her stiffen with worry.

Then, when Lincoln lit a candle on the table, Clarke saw the long dark hair, the intricate tattoos and the loose sleeveless dress the person was wearing—the same shirt that she and Lincoln had dyed a couple of years ago when Clarke was trying her hand at new technics. Damn it, she didn’t even notice it was missing. And now, Octavia was wearing it.

Bellamy and his sister let go of each other and with a small tug at her heart, Clarke realised she’d never seen him smile like that. For the first time, he seemed happy. It looked good on him.

“What are you doing here, Bell?” Octavia asked, smiling through a frown. “How did you even know—“

“Clarke—Clarke knew,” he stuttered in a strange voice, reaching his hand towards her. Clarke waved awkwardly with a crooked smile and after a moment of confusion on Octavia’s face, the other woman smiled back.

“I know you, don’t I?” Octavia turned to Clarke and held her hand out. Clarke took it with a nod. “How do you know my brother, though?”

Clarke opened her mouth, looking to Bellamy, but Lincoln was faster.

“Apparently, they are married now,” he announced with a grin, like it was the greatest joke. Octavia snorted but one look at her brother and her face changed.

“What?!” she exclaimed, slapping his arm lightly. Her eyes were wide and when Bellamy shrugged without a word, she groaned and turned to Clarke. “Well?”

Clarke blew a puff of air. “Yeah, well. It’s true,” she said and then even Lincoln’s eyes popped.

“Your leaving nearly caused a war because both Jaha and Nia claimed you kidnapped each other and had to be avenged. So, the commander decided to unite our clans through marriage. And since you two were unavailable,” Clarke explained, waving her hand at them. It was almost funny, recounting the whole thing like that because when she told said it out loud to someone who wasn’t there, it sounded like the most ridiculous idea. It _was_ ridiculous. How could Lexa ever think it would’ve worked?!

Octavia just stared between Clarke and Bellamy, her mouth closing and opening like a fish out of the water. Lincoln pulled out a chair and dropped heavily onto it.

“I’m assuming that you being here means it didn’t quite go as planned?” he asked flatly and just hummed when Clarke shook her head in answer.

“O,” Bellamy finally spoke, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat when his sister looked at him. “You need to come back with us, we have to show everyone that you’re both okay.”

Octavia shook her head. “You really think Nia cares so much about my well-being that seeing me will stop her craving for war? I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

“Of course not,” he countered with a snort. “Don’t take this the wrong way but no-one really cares about what happens to the two of you but the commander is _literally_ grasping at straws to stop the coalition from breaking. We’re hoping that if she sees the two of you, safe and sound, she can just _order_ them to drop the issue and threaten an attack herself.”

Octavia blew a raspberry. “Damn, you’ve really thought this through.”

“Actually, it’s Clarke’s idea,” Bellamy clarified and Clarke saw a look on Octavia’s face that she didn’t understand. She felt Octavia’s heavy gaze on her though.

“Jaha wanted me to spy on Azgeda, then Nia sent her own spy after us, to kill me and frame me for trying to hurt Bellamy and the commander won’t tell them to just forget about this quarrel because she knows that the clans might turn against her if she forbids them from taking revenge altogether,” Clarke said. “I’m not saying that seeing you will just magically fix this but I’m hoping that at least some of the clan elders might oppose going to war if they see the clans’ honour hadn’t been offended.”

Octavia listened with a serious expression, then looked at Lincoln, eyebrows raised in a question. The man smiled sadly and spread his hands as if to say that the decision was hers. Clarke watched the exchange with attention and barely registered that Bellamy had moved and was now at her side. She looked up to see him staring down at her. He touched her elbow and smiled a tentative smile. Clarke nodded in answer. They’d said their pieces, now they had to wait.

Clarke saw Octavia put her hand on her sternum and as it slid downwards, a strange thought came to her mind, about why would Octavia need Clarke’s old, loose dress. And then—

“I’m pregnant,” Octavia blurted when her hand reached her navel. Bellamy grabbed at Clarke’s forearm but when she looked at him, he was just staring ahead, at where his sister’s hand was placed.

“It’s why we left,” Lincoln added, getting up from the chair. He walked to Octavia and took her hand. At Clarke’s side, Bellamy made a strangled noise at the back of his throat. And then, Clarke remembered what Lincoln said when they were saying goodbye, about how their children wouldn’t be accepted in Azgeda. From all that she’d heard from Bellamy, she couldn’t blame Lincoln and Octavia for not wanting that kind of treatment for their family.

“We wanted our child to be safe, away from all the politics, the conflicts.”

Clarke nodded in resignation, hearing Lincoln say that. She understood them and she couldn’t— _wouldn’t_ , expect them to risk everything for this.

“We’re gonna go back with you,” Octavia said though, startling Clarke. Her head snapped to Octavia and then to Bellamy, who stayed silent since they heard the news. Looking at him, Clarke had no idea what he was thinking.

“We’re not gonna stay there. This is our home now, but I want to raise my baby knowing that we’re here because we wanted to come, not because we had to run away. And if there’s even a chance that can happen, I want to do it,” Octavia announced, Lincoln beaming with pride at her side. Clarke smiled at him. He would be an amazing father.

Octavia came up to Bellamy and took his hand. He still looked like someone had hit him over the head and he hadn’t recovered but when Octavia grinned at him, he reciprocated. “You’re gonna be an uncle, Bell. Can you believe that?”

“Not really,” he finally said and let out a watery laugh. Octavia snorted and the yelped, when her brother swiped her off her feet into a tight hug.

***

The trip back to Polis went much quicker. Sure, the roads were now completely covered in snow but Lincoln knew a shortcut that Clarke hadn’t even considered and in the end, they reached the first of Polis’s guard posts in five days. And what they saw chilled the blood in her veins.

There were Trikru and Azgeda warriors at every trading post and tavern, and if they met so many that close to the city limits, then whole armies must’ve gathered and were waiting in reserve, somewhere close by, ready to attack.

They hurried to the city, only stopping when absolutely necessary and during one of those breaks, Clarke heard that come noon that same day, the fate of the coalition would be determined in single combat. She nearly choked on air hearing that—no matter who was supposed to fight, it couldn’t possibly end well.

Bellamy agreed with her without a word, just helped Lincoln gather all their things and they were off again, only a couple hours left for them to get to Polis.

When they finally arrived, it seemed as though they got there at the very last minute because shortly after they came inside, the main gate had been closed and barred. Clarke looked around them and saw Polis like she’d never experienced before. The number of guards had been doubled if not tripled, all the market stalls were shut and the wave of people carried the four of them towards the square at the food of the tower.

It looked like the city was preparing for the fall of the commander, for the coalition descending into chaos and the very thought sent a chill down Clarke’s back. What happened during those last few weeks that caused the situation to escalate like that?

Clarke looked at Bellamy who was scanning the crowd with the same concerned expression. Closely behind them, Lincoln and Octavia were making their way forward, holding hands, and every time Clarke glanced to check on them, they seemed to be huddled even closer together, supporting each other.

She smiled to herself when they finally reached the square and Lincoln brought his arm around Octavia, trying to protect her from the people elbowing their way through the crowd. She was so happy to see her friend start a family with the woman he loved but at the same time, she couldn’t help the little envious tug she felt whenever she thought about her own situation, about her own husband.

For better or worse, it seemed that they were finally at the end of the line. Whether they succeeded at stopping the war or not, their circumstances would change and they probably wouldn’t need to stay married any longer—either because there’d be peace between the clans or because they’d all be at war. And though she couldn’t quite explain that to herself, Clarke wasn’t sure what to think about that. If anyone had asked her at the beginning if she wanted to marry Bellamy, she probably would’ve laughed in their faces but now, when she might finally have the chance to choose, she had no idea what she wanted anymore.

There was a part of her brain that was screaming at her to run the moment she saw the opportunity, to get away from the husband that’d been forced upon her so she could be used as a pawn. But that voice was getting smaller and quieter, whenever she looked at Bellamy, who protected her from his Queen’s intrigues and renounced his clan when they tried to kill her.

As if reading her mind, Bellamy put his hand on the small of her back and guided her closer into his side, unconsciously mirroring Lincoln’s protective manoeuvre. Clarke looked at him and they exchanged small, uncertain smiles—and pressed against his arm, Clarke was feeling more and more confused.

This, however, was not the moment to contemplate the future of her marriage because soon after they arrived at the square, before any of them had the chance to really see what was going, the crowd went wild. Clarke tried to decipher what they were shouting but all she could understand was Lexa’s name and that they were cheering for her. Some of them, anyway.

From the other side of the square, mostly occupied by Azgeda, Clarke could hear a different name but she didn’t recognise it. She turned to Bellamy to ask him about it but froze with her mouth open, seeing his face. He’d suddenly gone so pale that he looked like all his blood had drained from his face and the hand he had on Clarke’s back suddenly clasped around her wrist.

Clarke frowned. “What are they shouting?” she finally asked.

Bellamy looked at her, jaw clenched. “Roan,” he barked. “Nia’s son. He’s—a wild card. He was banished from the lands, I can’t imagine what deal he made with his mother to be allowed back.”

“I suppose killing the commander would buy him a lot of good will,” Clarke said, looking ahead. There were two small podiums erected at two ends of the square, framing it into a fighting pit. “He must’ve agreed to be her champion for the single combat,” she guessed and mere moments later, Clarke had her confirmation. Queen Nia emerged from the crowd, followed by a tall, dark-haired man with a sword in his hand, and several members of the queen’s guard; and amongst them—

“Echo,” Bellamy breathed out, voice strangled. Clarke had to rise on her tiptoes to look but there she was. The spy limped slowly with her head held high, her neck wrapped in bandages and half of her hair missing. Clarke almost felt bad for her, seeing what the grenade had done to her, but one look at Bellamy, who was still favouring his side, and she no longer felt guilty for what she’d done.

Nia took her place on the far end of the square and soon after, the doors of the tower opened and Lexa came out in full fighting gear and war-paint. She was flanked by more members of the Flamekeeper order than Clarke had ever seen in one place and she couldn’t help but wonder if they were there as a show of strength or because they had already prepared for the transfer of power.

When Lexa walked onto the podium, her long cape hanging off over the edge, Titus came forward and stood in the middle of the square.

“Queen Nia, you have challenged to commander’s rule,” he called out, facing the Azgeda corner. The cheering from their side drowned out his voice momentarily but they went quiet when he spoke again. “You claim that the commander had lied to you and the coalition, that she sided with Trikru and ignored your pleas for retribution for crimes committed against your clan. You demanded for the matter to be resolved in single combat and the commander had excepted the challenge.”

More shouts erupted from both sides of the square and Clarke rose up again, trying to look at Lexa. She was too far away for her to see her face clearly but she stood straight as an arrow, head raised stiffly and Clarke thought she looked like this was the last place she wanted to be.

Titus raised his hand to calm the crowd and continued. “However, before we can proceed, we demand to know what proof have you got. The people _demand_ to know how would you support this accusations—how can we know that your claims are justified.”

Nia didn’t say anything at first, just looked around. Then, she waved her hand at her guard and Echo emerged from between them. Nia made room for her on the stand, so everyone could see the state she was in.

Clarke could feel Bellamy’s hand tighten on her wrist and without looking, she brought her other hand and wrapped it around his, squeezing lightly in support.

“This is my proof!” Nia bellowed, pointing at Echo. “ _This_ is what Clarke Griffin of Trikru did to my people when we discovered that the marriage they forced our clan into was nothing more than a lie. The commander used her own lover to seduce and kill Bellamy Blake.”

The people around them started shouting and Clarke readjusted the hood over her head.

“We all know that they both disappeared shortly after the marriage ceremony and despite the commander’s claims that they were still in Polis, I know for a fact that they left.” Nia shouted. She grabbed Echo’s arm and yanked her forward. “I sent this woman after them, to make sure that the agreement was being honoured only for her to uncover the plot to murder another one of my people. And when she was discovered, Clarke Griffin attacked her and most likely already killed Bellamy Blake as well.”

She paused, waiting for the shouting around them to grow louder. She swiped over the crowd with her eyes, a smug smirk on her face. “I have witnesses who saw Clarke Griffin conspiring with the commander shortly before the ceremony and I’m sure that even if you all demanded it, the commander could not produce the girl—because she isn’t here. She’d been sent off on a mission to assassinate one of my subjects, to spy on my people and to find the best way to attack my lands!”

Clarke had to admit, it was uncanny how well Nia described exactly what Jaha’s plan was.

Still, she couldn’t listen to any of this any longer. Without another thought, she started pushing her way through the crowd. For a moment, Bellamy’s hand was still wrapped around her wrist but the further away she got, he let go of her and for a moment, she mourned the loss of it—only to have Bellamy take her hand in his and follow her instead, looking at her with conviction as they finally burst through the crown and stopped barely a few meters away from Titus, removing their hoods.

The people around the grew silent all of a sudden, surprised. Titus looked at them like he’d never seen them before in his life and even Nia was stunned silent. Clarke didn’t dare look at Lexa but in that moment, it wasn’t really about her anyway.

“ _She_ is lying!” Clarke yelled, pointing at Nia. Not the most diplomatic opening, sure, but there was no time to come up with dramatic retellings.

“I am Clarke Griffin of Trikru and my husband is right here with me,” she continued, raising their joint hands up in the air. “It is true, we did leave the Queen indeed sent a spy after us but her job wasn’t to protect anyone; she tried to kill me and provoke a war between our clans.”

Clarke looked straight at Nia as she spoke, ignoring the buzzing of the crowd. Nia was breathing quickly, her eyes narrowed and fists clenching at her side.

Then, Bellamy stepped forward. “We’re all here because both Queen Nia and Thelonious Jaha tried to convince the coalition that they were wronged when my sister and Clarke’s kin disappeared. We were made to believe that they were both taken or killed and that a war was necessary to avenge them. But that was a lie, too.”

He waved his hand to where Lincoln and Octavia stood at the edge of the crowd. The two of the stepped forward, where everyone could see them.

“My sister and her partner are safe, sound and together. They left of their own free will and they came back willingly to make sure that no blood will be spilt in their name.”

Clarke looked and the crowd, holding a breath. No one was shouting anymore but she could hear the people talk among themselves. Some of them recognised Octavia and soon after, everyone around knew that _Blodreina_ was back, unharmed. And judging by the faces of those closest to her, it looked like the bloodlust had dissipated and was replaced with doubt and confusion.

It seemed that even Nia finally realised that her plan had failed. She stomped her foot onto the platform and called for her guards in frustration—only they didn’t seem to trust her command anymore either. They looked at each other, questioning. When Nia saw their disobedience, she yelled for her son.

“Roan!” she called upon him. “You are Azgeda’s champion. It’s up to you to take care of the threat to the safety and wellbeing of your clan!” she demanded, pointing at the four of them. Clarke tugged on Bellamy’s hand instinctively and he pulled her into his side, ready to protect her. On her right, Lincoln and Octavia let go of each other and each of them reached to their sides, hands on their weapons.

Clarke watched with bated breath as Roan stepped around the platform, sword in hand, and stopped in front of his mother.

“Is that what you really want?” he asked and the tone of voice made Clarke suddenly more nervous. Being attacked she expected but the way that the Prince looked at his mother, she couldn’t tell what he’d do next and that unpredictability made her hair stand on end.

“Yes!” Nia yelled furiously and without another thought, Roan jumped onto the platform, his fingers tightening on the hilt of his sword. He came up to his mother, ripped the crown off her head and pushed her to the edge. Nia barely stopped before she fell off. She tried to turn around and face Roan, but he slipped the crown onto his forearm and grabbed his mother by the back of her neck, presenting her to the crowd.

“People of Azgeda! Of Polis! Members of the coalition, Queen Nia demanded I eliminate the threat to our safety. Only from what we heard here today, _she_ herself poses the biggest threat, wanting to risk your lives in order to prove a point and gain more power.” Roan spoke to the crowd, putting enough pressure on Nia’s neck that she was force to bow her head. 

“The Queen wants war, wants to throw away the peace we all agreed upon just to further her own ambition. Would you choose to listen? To kill and die just so that she can get what she wants?”

The crowd booed in response and Roan raised his sword, pointing it forward. “Or would you rather be rid of a ruler that has no respect for you, who lies and plots against you?”

Nearly everyone gathered started to cheer. Even most of the Azgeda members called for an execution and for the first time, Clarke saw true fear on Nia’s face.

Nodding his head, Roan lowered his sword and swung his arm backward. Realising what he was about to do, Clarke turned around and tucked her head into Bellamy’s chest. His free arm swung around her back, hugging her closely. From behind her, Clarke heard the heavy _thump_ of a lifeless body hitting the platform, followed by inhumane shouting from the crowd.

“You have your wish,” Roan announced and when Clarke turned in Bellamy’s embrace and looked at the Prince, he had already put the crown on his head, sword raised above his head. Someone in the crowd shouted ‘ _Long live King Roan_ ’ and as the proclamation spread amongst the audience, Roan stepped down from the platform and made his way to the other side of the square. When he passed Clarke and Bellamy, he acknowledged them with a single nod before he continued making his way towards the tower. Finally, everyone turned to watch what would happen, as if only just remembering that the commander was still there, waiting.

It seemed that Titus might’ve forgotten about that as well, because the moment he realised how close Roan had gotten to Lexa, he turned around to chase after him. They both stopped at the foot of Lexa’s platform nearly at the same time and for a long moment, the commander’s only reaction was an unimpressed glare she shot at Titus.

The crowd collectively held its breath, waiting to see what Roan would do and as Clarke’s curiosity won over, she started walking towards him and Lexa. Barely a stepped behind her, Bellamy followed, still holding her hand tightly. Soon, she heard Lincoln and Octavia walking with them as well. They stopped meters away from the platform, just in time to see Roan drop onto one knee.

“Commander, I pledge my allegiance to you and to this coalition,” he declared, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I promise you that the Azgeda swords shall not be raised to slay our brethren and with your permission, I withdraw the challenge my mother had so carelessly thrown.”

Lexa remained silent. She stared at Roan with an unexpectedly blank expression—only now that Clarke could see her face better, she recognised it. She never understood it when Lexa explained it to her, suspected that no-one ever could, not without experiencing it for themselves but she knew this was how Lexa looked when she listened to the wisdom of the spirit of the commander.

The crowd settled into stunned silence, awaiting Lexa’s decision until finally—

“I accept you plea, Roan of Azgeda,” she announced. “I commend your willingness to avoid conflict but I cannot make this decision without consulting Trikru first, lest I be accused of favouring someone again.” Lexa decided, one of her eyebrows twitching with barely contained irritation.

She looked up and over the crowd and for the first time, Clarke realised she hadn’t seen Jaha anywhere. He would’ve been the first to contest everything that happened.

Instead, after a moment, Wells stepped out of the crowd and came up to the platform. He bowed his head in a show of respect and addressed the commander with a hand on his heart.

“Trikru accepts Azgeda’s offer. We agree that war shall never be the road to peace and we wish our two clans to co-exist together and work towards prosperity.”

Lexa smiled lightly hearing that and without further ado, announced the matter resolved. She dismissed everyone in the square, telling them to celebrate the peace and stormed off the towards the tower, the Flamekeepers trailing after her.

As the crowd dispersed, Clarke saw Wells and Roan exchanged a handshake before the both walked away and disappeared from sight.

She looked at Bellamy, whose brow was furrowed in confusion. Still, he smiled at her and small wrinkles appeared around his eyes.

“Is that it?” Octavia said with disbelief, reaching their side.

Clarke looked and her and Lincoln and huffed a strangled laughter. “I guess so,” she said absentmindedly. He fingers tightened around Bellamy’s and when she felt him reciprocate the gesture, she turned and threw herself into Bellamy’s arms.

“Now, there’s something I thought I’d never see,” she heard Octavia say half-jokingly and it made her snort into Bellamy’s neck. Surprised, he flinched, lifting her off her feet slightly and the two of them laughed until tears appeared in their eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

It barely took two days before things in Polis went back to normal. Two days and the platforms in front of the towers had been dismantled, Nia’s blood washed off of the ground, and Octavia and Lincoln decided it was time enough for them to leave again.

For all that Clarke wasted to know what happened when she and Bellamy were gone, it paled in comparison to the sudden opportunity to spend some more time with Lincoln and get to know Octavia. And not that Clarke was that eager to admit it, but Bellamy was right—they did like each other. _Eventually_.

When the time came for them to leave, Clarke slipped out of the room to give the siblings a moment alone and decided this would be the perfect moment to find Wells and ask him what the devil’s going on. Only he wasn’t in any of the places that Clarke expected to find him—or a few other random ones she checked on her way back to the room she shared with Bellamy.

Finally, she gave up for the day and chose to just go outside to see Octavia and Lincoln off. It wasn’t like Wells could just hide forever.

Clarke was almost at the staircase when someone stepped out of the throne room and said her name. She yelped and froze mid-step, trying to remember if she still had her knife in one of her pockets but when she turned around, she saw Lexa standing in the doorway. Clarke shook herself out of the shock and crossed the corridor towards the room.

Lexa backed into the throne room and let go of the door once Clarke had joined her inside, letting it swing back.

For a moment, they just stood there, opposite of each other. Clarke waited for Lexa to speak, to reveal whatever reason she had for this meeting but she said nothing and Clarke grew impatient.

“Commander,” Clarke started, crossing her arms over her chest.

Finally, Lexa cleared her throat.

“I heard Octavia and Lincoln are leaving tonight,” she said, trying to sound casual but Clarke cocked her eyebrow, unimpressed. “Do you know where are they going?”

Ah, yes. Though no-one said it out loud, there was a rumour that they sought shelter at Luna’s and she couldn’t even blame Lexa for trying to find out for sure. After all, Luna was still a traitor and as the last Nightblood of age, she posed a threat to Lexa’s rule—it only made sense that she’d grab at every opportunity to learn where Luna was.

“I couldn’t say,” Clarke answered with a small shrug. She’d be damned if she brought any danger to the community Luna had built, where one of her best friends wanted to raise his family. She noticed Lexa’s eye twitch in irritation and she made a mental note to tell Lincoln to take a long way round and make sure they weren’t followed.

Lexa nodded once and took a step closer. “Is her brother coming with them?”

“No,” Clarke blurted, surprised. She dropped her arms so they were hanging loosely at her sides, her fingers twitching to prevent them from clenching into fists. Her forehead furrowed, confused. On one hand, Clarke wasn’t sure why Lexa would care about that and on the other—Clarke actually wasn’t entirely sure if she was correct.

Bellamy was right now saying goodbye to his sister, so it was a reasonable conclusion that he intended to stay behind. Still, they haven’t actually _talked_ about what would happen next—mostly because Clarke avoided the subject like that plague, dreading what she might hear otherwise. Cowardly, sure, but somewhere down the line she realised she wanted to stay with Bellamy, however it would look like. They bickered about the stupidest things and the past two nights, he stole all her blankets in retaliation for having her cold feet pressed against his calves but Bellamy made her feel safe in a way she hadn’t in a long time.

Clarke didn’t know where things were going between them but she knew she wanted to find out, together.

Lexa studied her with a blank expression. Clarke swallowed, suspecting she wasn’t able to keep her emotions from her face. She pursed her lips while Lexa came even closer. Instinctively, Clarke took a step back, surprising herself and Lexa. The commander frowned for a split second.

“It seems that the situation that brought the two of you together had been resolved for good,” Lexa said carefully. “I suppose there is no need for you to remain married, since Azgeda and Trikru reached an agreement after all.”

Clarke frowned. “You mean, we can drop the pretences,” she huffed, slightly ticked off. _Now_ she’d been given a choice regarding the marriage?

“Yes,” Lexa confirmed easily, not noticing her tone. “If you want, you could stay here, in Polis. By my side.”

Clarke recoiled and felt her jaw drop.

“Stay here?” she echoed, blinking. And then she snorted.

“As who, exactly? Your advisor? Secret lover? Lady in waiting?” Clarke scoffed. Whatever this offer was supposed to be, it was five years and one bitter disappointment too late.

Lexa didn’t answer, but that in itself was telling.

Clarke exhaled and shook her head. “You said it yourself, there is no place for relationships in the commander's life,” she said, a bitter tone in her voice.

Lexa nodded her head. “I'm sorry,” she said and it almost made Clarke smile.

“So am I,” she agreed. “Maybe if our lives were different, I would’ve said yes. But I can't spend the rest of my life waiting for something that will never happen, not when I have a chance on something real.”

Lexa tilted her head slightly.

“You care about him,” she guessed. For a slip second, Clarke thought about denying it. She’d only just admitted it to herself and for all she knew, Bellamy wanted nothing to do with her anymore—and it wasn’t really any of Lexa’s business, anyway. But standing with her in that moment, Clarke didn’t want to lie.

“Yes, I do,” she admitted, a small smile stretching her lips.

Lexa remained impassive and simply hummed in acknowledgment.

“Well then,” she said, head held high. “I suppose this is where we say good bye.”

Clarke smiled at her, a little sadly. For five year, she wondered what it would be like if she ever had the chance to talk to Lexa like that, instead of getting sent away like an inconvenience. And now, when she finally had closure, it was somewhat underwhelming, to be honest—and she couldn’t help the feeling that it was because of Bellamy.

“Goodbye, Lexa,” she said simply and walked out of the throne room, closing the door behind her—and on her relationship with Lexa.

***

The next morning, Clarke finally managed to catch up with Wells—for all of five minutes, before a tall, dark-haired woman with bright, almond eyes appeared at his side and said she needed to speak to him immediately.

Seeing the way the two of them were looking at each other, Clarke made a face at him to which Wells responded with a rude gesture. They both laughed and he promised to make time to explain everything, and then we was dragged away again.

Clarke was smiling to herself all the way back to her bedroom, eager to shower her friend with all the questions about the mystery woman whenever she got the chance. But when she entered the bedroom, the smile dropped off her face and her expression shattered because Bellamy had his bag spread open on their bed and was packing all his belongings with a purpose of someone who had no time to waste.

“Bellamy?” she said quietly, unsure. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he shot back, not even looking at her. Dread settled deep in Clarke’s stomach as she crossed the room and stopped right at his side.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I’ll find some place.”

Clarke frowned and put her hand out to grab his elbow but he turned and walked away before she could even touch him. Her fingers closed around thin air, leaving her dumbstruck. What could’ve happened in the hour since she’d last seen Bellamy that turned him so cold towards her?

While Bellamy folded and re-folded his shirts so that they’d fit into his bag, Clarke sat down on the bed so that he’d have to at least look at her when he turned back. But when he saw her, he just pulled the strap and yanked the bag off the bed, only just avoiding spilling everything on the floor.

Growing frustrated, Clarke stood up with a huff and marched up to Bellamy’s side. She grabbed his elbow and pulled him to face her, knowing fully well that she wasn’t strong enough to actually make him move. A small burst of satisfaction went through her when Bellamy complied and they stood face to face. Finally, he looked Clarke in the eye and the defeat on his face broke her heart.

“What happened?” she asked, confused. Granted, they hadn’t talked about the future but after those two days they’d spent in the cabin, they grew so much closer that she really thought— _hoped_ —that he’d want to at least consider staying with her.

Otherwise, why did he hold her at night the way he did?

“Nothing happened,” he said flatly. “My sister is safe and she left again, we stopped the damned war and the coalitions seems stronger than ever. Our job here is done, isn’t it?”

Clarke blinked at the roughness of his tone. “So, you’re leaving? Without me?” she hated how small she sounded, wished she could save face by pretending that it didn’t bother her, but it _hurt_. His rejection cut her deeper that she ever expected.

“Clarke,” he said with a small whine and it was the first sign that he wasn’t completely unaffected. She latched onto that.

Letting go of his elbow, Clarke took his hand instead, prying the now wrinkled shirt away. She wrapped both her hands around one of his, forever mesmerised by how she was barely able to cover it.

“Can you please just talk to me?” she urged. Bellamy’s fingers twitched but he didn’t take his hand away, so that was something.

“I get that you want to leave, trust me. I don’t wanna stay here any longer than I absolutely have to, either. I just thought maybe you—that maybe we could—“ Clarke trailed off and took a deep breath.

Before she could say more, Bellamy interrupted in surprise. “You’re not staying?”

Clarke’s mouth snapped shut and she frowned, tucking her chin into her neck.

“No!” she exclaimed, bewildered. She dropped his hand and took a step back, looking at him.

Bellamy’s gaze was pointed at his feet, the hand that Clarke had been holding was clenched into a fist now while the other was running though his hair making an even bigger mess of it. Clarke said his name quietly but he barely even reacted, eyes still downcast.

“Bell,” she implored again and he looked up, finally. There was a strange expression on his face, like he was fighting against himself and Clarke couldn’t understand it.

“Is that why you’re leaving _now_? Because you think I’m staying?” she asked, incredulous. “Why would you even think that?”

Bellamy clenched his jaw so hard that his teeth clicked.

“I saw you with the commander yesterday. I heard you talking about our marriage, saying how we don’t need to pretend anymore. And then she offered you to stay.” He spoke quietly, evenly, but his brow was furrowed, the corner of his mouth twitched nervously and he sounded bitter. Momentarily, a thought popped into Clarke’s head, about how incredible it was that she was able to read him, and she almost smiled.

But then, she thought back to her conversation with Lexa, how they were alone in the throne room—how on earth did he hear anything? Clarke shook her head and remembered that she never actually had to open the door when she left and realised that Lexa must’ve left it ajar.

She huffed a startled chuckle. What a timing.

“Were you eavesdropping?” Clarke asked with a small smirk, suddenly feeling much more sanguine. Was that snippet of conversation really the reason for his reaction?

“You should’ve stayed longer, then.”

Bellamy scoffed.

“Didn’t really sound like something I would’ve enjoyed,” he shot back with a grimace.

Clarke hummed and stepped closer, into his space. Now was her chance.

“But then you would’ve heard me tell her that I’d rather be with my husband.”

Bellamy’s eyes snapped to her immediately, his eyebrows jumping up in surprise.

“What?” he croaked.

Clarke smiled shyly and shrugged one shoulder. She put her hand on Bellamy’s cheek and rubbed her thumb over his cheek bone. He’d shaved that morning and she was able to trace the scar marring his cupid’s bow. Bellamy’s lips parted when she did so and he closed his eyes.

With her other hand, Clarke brushed the hair away from his forehead, her fingers caressing the side of his face.

“My relationship with Lexa had always been unsustainable and it’s over. Had been for a long time before I met you,” she said gently. Bellamy’s eyelids twitched but he didn’t open his eyes just exhaled a long breath.

“And I know that it’s a little crazy because two weeks ago, we didn’t even know each other—and we definitely didn’t like each other but now—“ Clarke let out a watery laughter, her fingers tucking his soft curls behind his ear. “I like being with you, how you make me feel. And I want to give it a real shot.”

Bellamy didn’t speak, just nuzzled had hand still on his cheek.

“Now would be a good time for you to say something,” Clarke suggested with forced lightness, covering her nerves.

“Okay,” Bellamy whispered into her wrist.

She frowned lightly. “Okay?”

Then, he finally opened his eyes and the softness of his gaze rooted Clarke to her spot. His lips stretched into a tender smile and he placed the smallest of kisses on the inside of her wrist, putting his hand over hers on his cheek, pressing is tightly against his face.

They were so close that Clarke could see his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed.

“Whatever you want to do, I want to do it with you, Clarke,” he told her, smiling. “Whatever is going to happen, I want for us to find that out together.”

His voice was barely above a whisper and Clarke could feel his warm breath on her face when he moved closer. With her hands still on Bellamy’s face, she pulled him closer, so much closer that their noses brushed—but it wasn’t until Bellamy wrapped his free arm around her middle and guided her towards him, that she surged forward and sealed her lips over his.

Bellamy’s strong arm lifting her to her tip-toes, Clarke gasped for air, giving him the opportunity to take her lower lips between his. He growled when Clarke ran her tongue over his lip and started kissing down her face, along her jaw and all the way to his pulse point where she could feel him suck a bruise. The sensation made her head spin and she closed her eyes, placing soft kisses wherever she could reach.

When he detached himself from her neck for a breath, Clarke reclaimed his mouth with hers for a long, bruising kiss and only let go of him when she felt his long moan rumbling in his chest.

She threw her arms around his neck then, tucking her face in the crook of his neck and breathing deeply. Bellamy was stroking her hair lightly and she moved her head so she could whisper into his ear.

“Take me home, husband.”

***

“So what, you’re gonna leave without a word again now?”

Clarke turned around at the sound of Wells’s voice and made a face when she saw him grinning at her.

The morning after she and Bellamy decided to stay together, Clarke left for the market restock for the journey before trying to find Wells again. But apparently, news travelled fast in Polis.

“Oh, you’re the one to talk,” she teased when he stood at her side and took a box of preserves from her without a word.

“Three days I’ve been trying to talk to you and you never had the time,” Clarke added with a mock complaint and Wells scrunched his nose, looking just the right amount of sheepish.

“What can I say, diplomacy takes time,” Wells answered with a small shrug but Clarke didn’t buy that innocence, there was a glint of confidence in his eyes still.

“Yeah, I figured,” she said, knocking her elbow against his. “That’s what I’ve been trying to talk to you about. Here I was, thinking that bringing Octavia and Lincoln might help with negotiations and it turns out, we came back to a done deal!”

“Well, it wasn’t quite done yet,” Wells protested weakly but when Clarke levelled him with an unimpressed look, he shook his head and led her away from the bustling crowd.

They stopped at the edge of the city square, Wells put the box down on the ground and stood on Clarke’s left, casually leaning against the wall behind him. Clarke looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“Looks like I wasn’t the only one with a busy month, was I?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Wells hummed. “You remember all those summits in Polis that my dad dragged me into that you refused to attend?” he started. Clarke just pursed her lips, listening.

“It turns out, when the chieftains are yelling at each other over border disputes, the rest of the people grow bored quite quickly and one might find themselves striking up a conversation with whoever is standing next to them,” he theorised with a smirk. “Sometimes it’s a father of three, who’s impatient to go back home to his family and sometimes, it’s a daughter of the Louwoda Kliron Kru leader, who just so happens to be the great-niece of King Roan’s father.”

Clarke blinked rapidly, digesting Wells’s story. And sure enough, there was something rattling in her brain about Roan’s grandfather, who married his children among the clans in a hope of boosting Azgeda’s influence over the lands.

“Wait, do you mean that woman who came to you the other day?” Clarke asked, remembering the encounter. “The one you looked at like she had the sun shining out of her ears?” she exclaimed, pointing a finger at her friend. Clarke smiled when he grinned, showing his teeth and looked down at his feet—his dark skin might’ve hidden a blush but oh, she knew _that_ face.

“Phew, you like her!” she called him out, grinning herself.

“I—“ Wells faltered and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, yeah. Sasha is—yeah, I like her,” he stuttered to Clarke’s ever growing delight.

“Anyway,” he insisted, shoving Clarke lightly with his arm, “we’ve been talking for months about all the things we’d want to do differently if we had the chance and with all that happened after Lincoln left, after your wedding, we knew that something bad was about to go down. She proposed we should talk to Roan, that he might help—and he did.”

Clarke huffed. “Well, that must’ve been one hell of a conversation, if he agreed to kill his own mother.”

Wells nodded, conceding. “It wasn’t as hard a sell as you might think. Nia banished him for disagreeing with her methods, she knew that if he appealed to their honour, the army would rally behind him and stage a coup, so she threw him out under some made-up pretences,” he explained with a grimace.

Clarke listened with her chest constricting. If Nia was capable of treating her own son that way, what was she like towards her subjects? It was no wonder there was no love lost between Bellamy and Azgeda.

“Still, that’s impressive, what you and Sasha did,” Clarke told Wells. “And here I was thinking I could maybe help by bringing Octavia and Lincoln back. I should’ve gone straight to you.”

“As you always should,” Wells nodded solemnly and then winked. “But you did help. You brought us the perfect argument, I don’t think it would’ve gone as smoothly as it did if Azgeda hadn’t seen the living proof that both sides were lying.”

Clarke ducked her head and smiled. There was something very uplifting about Wells confirming that her instincts were correct and that she hadn’t risked her own life and Bellamy’s for nothing. Still, one thing wouldn’t let her go.

“How did you convince your father to do all that, anyway? He seemed pretty adamant.”

Wells blinked. “Yeah, well, dad’s gone.”

Clarke choked on air. “ _What_?!”

“He left, shortly after you,” Wells admitted and ran his hand over his mouth. “When we realised that you and Bellamy had gone, he understood that you weren’t about to do what he wanted and he admitted defeat—sort of.”

“He went back to TonDC, started talking about finding a better place for all of us, reading up on those legends about the City of Light.” Wells shook his head with disapproval. “Anya says he even gathered quite a following. And then one day, he announced that if he can’t give us Azgeda, he’ll find something better, he took some people with him and he just left.”

Clarke let out a strangled laughter.

“Wow, Thelonious Jaha became a true believer and I _missed_ it,” she chuckled. Then she looked at Wells and cleared her throat. “I mean, I’m sorry that your father is gone,” she said, trying for a reassuring smile.

“Thank you, not that I believe you’re gonna miss him very much,” Wells teased but then, he sighed. “What can I say, he did kinda lose it.”

Clarke smiled sadly at him. Regardless of her own antipathies towards Jaha, she never doubted that he loved Wells more than life and she felt for her friend. She hooked her hand around his elbow and hugged his arm, resting her head on his shoulder.

They stood quietly like that for a while, just people-watching.

“What are you gonna do now?” she asked after a moment, not looking up. She felt Wells exhale.

“I’m gonna ask Sasha to marry me—soon, I think,” he said in one breath. Clarke smiled and put her chin on his shoulder.

She looked up at Wells, grinning.

“It seems to be working out for you, so why not,” he added, hip-checking her with a smirk.

Clarke blushed and squeezed her eyes shut. She heard Wells laugh, could feel his whole body shaking.

“I am happy for you, you know,” he said gently and tentatively, Clarke opened one eye and scrunched up her nose.

Wells sent her a gentle smile and patted her hand. “What are you gonna do now?”

“Go home, I guess,” she answered with a sigh.

“Which is where?”

“I have no idea, we’re just gonna have to find one,” Clarke said blowing a raspberry. Wells chuckled.

“In that case, you might as well start in Shallow Valley,” he offered. “Sasha thinks Bellamy might still have some family there. Apparently, the resemblance is uncanny.”

Clarke stared at him, a huff of laughter bubbling at the back of her throat.

Yes, if there was even a chance that Bellamy still had someone else in this world who might care for him, she wanted to bring him to them with all her might. Whether they would stay there or not, that remained to be seen—but they finally had the chance to find that out.

After all, she had the good feeling that this peace would last.


	7. one year later

Winter was different in the Shallow Valley.

The first snow didn’t come until only days before the Winter Solstice and instead of the wet clumps that Clarke was used to, it fell in large, delicate flakes that covered the ground throughout the day and was then gone by morning.

Still, it was apparently a good sign and everyone in Shenandoah started preparing for the Solstice celebrations with doubled energy.

Clarke spent half of her shift in the clinic watching the snowfall through the window, smiling at the children trying to organise their first snowball fight. It was already melting by the time she left the clinic but the air was still nippy and she was beyond grateful that when she finally got home, Bellamy had already had the fire going. And even more so when she noticed he’d dug out their furs for the night.

The second Clarke crossed the threshold and closed the door behind her, she kicked her boots off and skipped over to the hearth, crouching as close to it as she could. Over the crackling of the fire, she didn’t even hear Bellamy approach her, didn’t realised he was behind her, until she felt his arm encircling her waist. She yelped when he hoisted her up and wrapped her in a hug from behind. Clarke started to turn in his embrace and a hiss escaped her when she realised how cold his jacket was to the touch.

“Damn, you’re all wet,” she complained, trying to wriggle away but Bellamy only pulled her closer, smirking.

Clarke shoved him away playfully but didn’t actually go anywhere when he loosened his grim on her. Instead, she ran her fingers though his damp hair. She scratched the back of his head lightly and a soft purr-like sound escaped Bellamy. She smiled to herself when he closed his eyes and leaned further into her touch.

She pressed the fingers of her other hand to his cheek and rubbed them over his short beard that he decided to grow for the winter, for some reason. Not that she was against it, it certainly made things—interesting.

“Don’t complain,” Bellamy finally spoke with a hum, his eyes still closed. “Someone had to chop the wood to keep your royal highness’s ass warm at night.” He ran one of his hands down her back and over her backside, fingers splaying to emphasise his point.

Clarke rose to her tiptoes at the sensation, warmth spreading low in her belly.

“Why, thank you, husband,” she teased, “for taking such good care of me, completely selflessly. Absolutely not because you don’t want me too hog all the covers.”

She was laughing by the end of the sentence but when Bellamy opened his eyes, something strangely serious crossed his face, making her frown.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, tucking his curls behind his ear—something she found herself doing quite often

Bellamy’s face softened and he smiled shyly.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just—“ he hesitated and dug his hand into his trouser pocket. He pulled something out in his clenched fist and brought it up to their faced.

He opened his hand and revealed two small, wooden rings, polished and varnished, with a fine patterned carved around the outside. Clarke frowned, confused and looked up at Bellamy. He nudged the bigger hoop with his thumb and Clarke’s mouth opened but no sound came out.

“Marry me,” Bellamy whispered hoarsely. Clarke took his hand in one of hers, the other one brushed the rings with just the tips of her fingers.

“We’re already married,” she said uselessly when she finally found her voice.

Bellamy shrugged and picked up the smaller ring. He closed his fist around the other and nudged her left hand with his pinkie. Clarke spread her fingers and watched stunned as he slid the ring around her ring finger, hand closing over hers.

“That was for them,” he said, eyes meeting hers. “We stood there like puppets, repeated some pointless vows and it didn’t really mean anything,” he huffed.

“It means everything now, Clarke.” He sounded serious, like he thought she needed to be reassured and she felt a pang in her heart.

A whole year together and he was still going out of his way to prove to her how much he wanted her, this marriage, this life.

“I know, Bell,” she agreed with a nod.

“You’ve given me everything I ever wanted, Princess. You even brought me to my family,” he continued and they both smiled at the memory of his tiny great-aunt nearly bringing him to his knees with a hug when they first met.

“Are we doing the new vows now?” Clarke asked with a watery chuckle, trying to stave off her tears but under the intensity of Bellamy’s gaze, it wasn’t easy. “Because I don’t really need convincing, you know. I love you, Bellamy. Of course I’ll marry you—again.”

Bellamy exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders. Clarke used this opportunity to loosen up his fist and take the other ring from him. She brought it to his left hand and slid it on.

“I’ll marry you whenever and wherever you want, however many times you want.”

Bellamy was speechless for a moment, breathing deeply. Then, he put his hands at the backs of Clarke’s thighs, hoisting her up and chasing her mouth for a kiss. Clarke wrapped her legs around Bellamy’s waist and threw her arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss.

Bellamy walked them over to their bed and they only broke away when he placed her gently on top of the furs, kissing hungrily down her neck, pushing the collar of her sweater away.

“You know, Lincoln wrote me a few weeks ago,” she mused between small moans. “He thinks that now that Athena is old enough, he might be able to convince Octavia to bring her with them in the spring.”

Bellamy stopped kissing her and buried his head into her neck with a groan.

“Do we really have to talk about my sister _now_?” he mumbled, looking up at her.

Clarke smiled at his uncomfortable expression and kissed his cheek. Bellamy pulled himself up and hovered above her, propping himself on one elbow while his other hand roamed up and down her ribcage.

“Actually, it’s less about your sister and more about—“ Clarke’s voice hitched. “I was just thinking, maybe next winter she could have a little niece or a nephew to play with,” she said biting her lip.

Bellamy’s jaw dropped. “Are you sure?”

Clarke nodded.

“I want to start a family with you,” she said, her arms travelling up Bellamy’s chest, hands pushing his jacket off his shoulders.

Snapping out, Bellamy shrugged the jacket off and tossed it to the side.

“I love you so much,” he said, kissing her again until the both ran out of air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip my ability to keep the chapters even xD
> 
> thank you so much for reading and for all your lovely comments!   
> if you’ve found yourself wondering about some canonical anachronisms in this story, i’ve made the arbitrary decision that when the baby grounders walked out of the Second Dawn bunker at the end of _Anaconda_ , they’d taken with them at least one (1) smart person, who told them to look for books and tools, so technologically-wise, they didn’t revert _all_ the way back to the Middle Ages; for example, they all studied medicine from actual, medical text books and would’ve known what electricity was, even if they didn't use it.
> 
> once again, this work had been created for the t100 fic for Black Lives Matter Donation Celebration event, for more information about the project, visit [our carrd](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/) or [our tumblr](https://t100fic-for-blm.tumblr.com/).  
> and come find me on tumblr @[carrieeve](https://carrieeve.tumblr.com).

**Author's Note:**

> more is yet to come!
> 
> find me on tumblr @[carrieeve](https://carrieeve.tumblr.com).


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